


Hair of Silver, Blades of Gold

by booklovertwilight



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Anxiety Disorder, Author Cameo, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Cultural Differences, F/F, I put actually far too much effort into the culture of this piece, M/M, Name Changes, Nonbinary Character, Prophecy, Romance, but they are diverse and consistent, if you dislike gays you will hate me, seriously the only relationships are gay, they don't correspond hardly at all to the cultures of the countries in canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 64,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booklovertwilight/pseuds/booklovertwilight
Summary: Prince Yuuri Katsuki has been in stasis for five hundred years, using his life-force to keep back an age-old demon simply referred to as the Shadow. However, only the hero of legend, a silver-haired warrior named Viktor Nikiforov, can seal the Shadow permanently behind a magical barrier called the Veil. Yuuri knows this, but what he doesn't know is that time is running out for this hero to complete his task; his life-force is vanishing faster than he expected. Will Viktor become the skater and the warrior he needs to be before time runs out?





	1. Trial 1: Viktor On Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Viktor + Yuuri fantasy AU! This is just a draft, so please point out any continuity errors, misspellings, etc, and tell me if there's anything that can be improved upon! I used to write a lot when I was a kid but haven't been since and have fallen out a good bit, so I need some good constructive criticism to get back on track. Also! If AO3 doesn't update you when a new chapter comes out, and/or you want to see my official artwork for this fic, please follow my Tumblr @booklovertwilight! Everything relevant to the fic will be tagged with "hair of silver blades of gold"!
> 
> (I spell Victor's name with a k because it's more correct to the Russian origin of the name. I know what it is in canon. Humor me.)
> 
> Chapters to this fic will post approximately whenever I feel like it. I'm a broke college student swamped with classes and with spring-term finals upcoming. Suggestions for the fic are greatly appreciated and can be posted in the comments, or in an ask to my Tumblr! If you draw some art for my fic (gasp! I'd love that!) please feel free to submit it to my Tumblr as well!!! Thank you all soooooooo much for reading!!!

The first and most important thing to know about Viktor is that he is insane. The second, but no less important, thing you need to know about him is that he was on an adventure when he met the love of his life. And before I get into any more details of that fateful meeting, there is a good bit of time I need to spend describing his adventure.

It started one fine spring morning, before dawn. He packed up his things in preparation to leave the village where he'd spent his entire life. Inching by as quietly as humanly possible, moving around tables on which fish were left to dry out, he made his way to the door. He took one last look around his childhood home, nodded a silent goodbye, and left.

* * *

 

_The previous day:_

_"Vitya, are you sure you don't want to help me gut the fish?"_

_"I'm sure, papa, but thank you! I'm gonna go explore the forest! I'll be back before supper, promise!"_

_"Alright," Viktor's father chuckled back, bucket full of his catches slung over his shoulder as he made his way back to their family's hut._

_Viktor didn't hear him. He was already running at full speed into the woods. He'd spotted something there while they were out fishing on the lake, something shiny that glinted like jewels. Someone else might have mistaken it for something small and reasonably close, but Viktor had the good eye to see that it was, in fact, quite large but a good distance away. Not too far to run in an hour or so, though..._

_Navigating the first few hundred meters of the woods was no problem, he practically had them memorized from his childhood spent playing in them. Once he got deeper in, the woods got thicker and he started to trip on brambles and roots, and it was harder to see what was in front of him through the thick leaves. He kept travelling, looking down at his compass almost constantly now to keep from veering off the course. Every once in a while he would get another glimpse of the shining thing, whatever it was, coming closer at what seemed to be a snail's pace. He kept running. He needed to find out what it was._

_Viktor felt himself getting tired as the trees started to thin out once again. Had he run through the entire woods? That couldn't be, he hadn't run far enough to get to the neighboring town, that was at least a day on horseback, and however fast he might be compared to the other youngsters, he would never rival a horse at full gallop. As he kept moving, faster now, and fueled by heightened curiosity, he noticed something flat and shining fast approaching, in the center of a clearing in the woods. He knew what it was, but his knowledge denied him up until he was right in front of the thing._

_It was a sheet of ice._

* * *

 

Viktor made his way through the woods yet again, not at full run this time for all the items on his back, but jogging with a purpose that made his intentions quite clear. He had packed everything he'd need for his quest, and everything he'd need in the future to continue it. An axe small enough to carry but large enough to fell small trees for firewood, a fishing pole, a few implements for preparing the fish he'd catch, a skeen full of fresh water. Then his skiis, a fur coat, and an empty backpack for any objects he might pick up along the way. He wore tight trousers, boots meant to be walked in for long distances before wearing out, and a short-sleeved shirt. And as the last stop on his way out, he crept into the village elder's house to remove the skates from the altar, where they'd been spoken to him and to other children for centuries with reverence.

He was coming at it from a different angle this time, but nonetheless he somewhat already knew where the ice sheet was. Through the thick part of the forest, out into the clearing, and then, bam. It was right there. The thing of legend. The ice sheet somehow still there after the frost had cleared, reflecting that eerie blue light from an invisible source. There was a log right next to the ice surface, conveniently placed and a perfect height to sit on, right next to the ice. He didn't hesitate to plunk the rest of his stuff down next to the log and sit on it to take his boots off and lace up the skates. His skates.

This, you may note, is where Viktor's pure insanity starts to become readily apparent. He is right that the skates of legend will fit him, but he doesn't stop to consider the possibility, indeed, the overwhelming likelihood, that they will not. However, since this particular bit of insanity, like many others in the future of this quest, is what brought his life, and the world, together, and helped seal the Shadow, one might be tempted to let it slide.

Viktor finishes lacing his skates and steps onto the ice. It's perfectly flat, pristine, and beautiful. He sees the blue light reflecting off one end of its surface and skates over to it, then jumping at the sight of something very, very out of place in the wilderness, much more so than the very sheet of ice he stands on.

It's a door. Rather, a set of doors, set into a doorway that curves back and forward around the entrance, holding a set of runes that glow a bright blue—the same blue that reflects onto the ice. Carved into the very top of the doorway, which itself looks fitted around the carving, is an eye. All this is of a material Viktor has never seen before, it's so smooth it has no visible texture at all, but it doesn't shine like metal. It's a slightly blue-tinted shade of grey... or is the blue coming from the runes? And the doorway doesn't look like it leads into a room at all, just doors set into a doorway that justifiably should just lead right back into the forest.

Before the oddity of the doorway can persuade Viktor into removing his skates to walk around it, or to inspect its runes more closely, there is a booming noise that echoes through the clearing. It's like the clang of metal against metal. As Viktor tries to find the source of that noise, he sees that the eye in the doorway, previously naught more than a carving, has come to life: the lids are a bright red, the sclera a yellowy orange, the iris bright blue like the runes. And as soon as his eyes meet that lone one, a voice intones in low hum a phrase Viktor has heard passed down through legends:

_"He who skates well shall be granted passage. Good luck. I am watching."_

The eye flashed again, it's colors briefly intensifying before settling. Viktor's pulse raced. From the very first time he had heard that phrase in legend, he knew what it meant, and he knew the others' interpretations were wrong. Skates were always used to traverse icy terrain quickly, but they were crude things of little elegance, sturdy boots with sharp metal attached. Everyone thus figured the legends regarding "skating well" meant skating quickly, being able to traverse a lot of terrain as fast as possible. It seemed to be the practical application, after all.

Viktor knew better. He knew the reason the skates of legend that were kept in the elder's hut had short blades, a sleek black leather design, and a sharp pick at the front. "Skating well" meant skating elegantly, that's why this patch of ice he stood upon at this very moment was so small. He wasn't meant to skate laps, he was meant to dance.

And dance he did.

There was no song that came thorugh the trees as Viktor moved gracefully across the ice, but he knew there should be. The stories of old mentioned songs that had been thus written down by the prophets and passed down thorugh time, songs flowing ethereally on the breeze across the ice from the unknown. Viktor wondered what he had to do to start the music as he practiced the elegant moves he'd had nowhere near enough time to work on, despite the fact that the fishing lake froze over enough every winter to skate on. It suddenly came to him as he was turning backwards into another toe step, and he skidded to a stop. He'd heard that clang just as the Watching Eye awoke, that clang like metal on metal. He placed one foot behind the other in a T position, moved his front foot forward, then shoved it backwards. The same clang he'd heard before echoed out across the rink, but this time it came from his own blades. Suddenly the Watching Eye was fixated on him. He put its staring out of his mind as he struck a pose, arms outstretched to his sides and fingers splayed, one foot behind the other, back toe pick in the ice. He heard the crescendo of notes and shifted his weight forward, bringing his arms over his head as he spun about his toe.

The music swelled through his body, moving his soul to its rhythm, and all he had to do was follow its calling. Shift back, cross over, swing right, turn left, pirouette. Turn, and turn again, hook, spin. And suddenly, as soon as it began, after a great crescendo and a chord, the music stopped, just as Viktor hit his ending pose. He looked straight at the Watching Eye, and it suddenly shut. Confused—there was nothing in the legend as to what happened after the hero skated—he just stood there. Had he failed? Would it even be possible to try again? 

A great creaking sound directed Viktor's eyes down. The doors were opening, and not right back out into the forest; into a large room that couldn't possibly exist in this world. A pathway of ice extended itself from the sheet to the doors, the edges of it melting into the ground, and got to its destination just as the doors hit the frame with a resounding thud. Numb, speechless, Viktor moved along the pathway of ice, stumbled a little when it gave way to an odd rubbery substance on the floor of the room, but walked across the room to a large chest in the center. He wasn't used to walking on solid ground in skates, but he was too entranced by what he saw to consider taking them off.

Viktor walked over to what could only be described as a treasure chest. The rest of the room was dark, and it seemed to glow. He opened it and found two objects inside. One of them was a sphere, made of a black stone and inlaid with trails of something glowing blue in swirling patterns. Viktor put it into his backpack before turning back into the chest to fish out the other item. It was a circular piece of crinkled fabric, and when Viktor picked it up and moved it around to inspect it, it stretched. He fit it around his wrist, and though it seemed a little odd to be a bracelet, he couldn't think of what else it might be. He left the little room, skated back out across the ice sheet, and noticed something odd as he was taking his skates off: the runes were now glowing white.

Not piecing together at that time what that meant, Viktor kept taking his skates off, tying the laces back together and slinging them over his shoulder. He put the rest of his gear back on, and was starting to leave when he was struck with a sudden realization: _there are more of these._ He didn't know where the knowledge came from, but it hit him hard and fast like a club.

_Where are they?_ he thought. _How do I find them?_

* * *

 

His solution to that problem was to keep walking until he found one. He knew pretty well where the surrounding villages were—he travelled with his father to them to set up shop and sell their fish—and he had a hunch that if there was another ice sheet nearby, the village would have some legend concerning skating floating around, just like his had. So he set out towards the nearest village, which was along a path at the other end of the forest. The only issue was the fact that he couldn't make it that far on foot before it got dark, and the Shadow moves at night. Getting swallowed up by its darkness was not on Viktor's list of fun things to do. He was moving as fast as he could toward the village as he thought of this, considered his options.

By the time the sun was setting, he was no closer to a solution than he'd been before. People had tried to use torches, but they never worked. There wasn't enough light. The Shadow crept in anyway. Viktor was using up all his endurance running as fast as he could along the forested path when he had an idea, and slowed to a walk. He caught his breath as he flipped his pack off his shoulder. There was a reason that chest had been glowing in the darkenss, and now he knew what it was.

The ball in his backpack glowed an astonishingly bright blue, so bright in the coming darkness that he couldn't look at it directly. But it did seem to ward off the darkness, making it look like daytime in a two or three meter radius of the palm where he held the ball. Viktor picked up his pace again, then, but to a light jog instead of a panicked run. He held that pace most of the rest of the way to the village, where he arrived sometime in the middle of the night.

* * *

 

Viktor spent little time finding the village's inn. He found it on the upper floor of a building containing a bar, on a beaten wooden sign that swung to and fro on rusty chains above the doorway. When he walked inside, the overwhelming stench of alcohol and the sound of rowdy good-for-nothings stung at his senses. He narrowly avoided being hit in the face with an empty wine-skin as he made his way up the creaky oak stairs.

A very tired-looking innkeeper sat at a desk, rifling through the pages of a fairly beaten tome. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in straying waves. It took Viktor saying "Hello?" and "Excuse me?" a few times before she looked up.

"Oh, hello..." she drawled, her tone crawling, whether from drink or lack of sleep he didn't care to know.

"I'd like to rent a bed," he noted. "Please," Viktor tacked on, pulling out his coin-purse.

"That'll be fifty," the lady said, smoothing wrinkles in her long wrap skirt as she stood, her glassy brown eyes focusing slightly. She held out a tired hand, Viktor put fifty numas worth of aged coins into her open palm. She closed her fingers around them, stuffed the coinage into a skirt pocket he wasn't aware she had, and moved shakily towards an open door. She led him down a hallway longer than he would have expected this building to have toward one of the few open doors at the end. It led into a room so small the bed reached both walls. There was a tiny wooden nightstand beside that bed, and a coatrack in the far corner.

"Breakfast at 0700 tomorrow." She handed him a key and turned around to go back the way she came.

Viktor stood in the crouching doorway for a few moments, then walked inside. He tossed his things haphazardly to the floor and hung his skates gently over one of the hooks. He made sure his backpack, which now held his glowing orb, was closed tightly, hanging that on the hook as well. Then he pulled his shirt and boots off, flopped down in the bed, and let himself be reminded of how full a day he'd had. He was very lucky he wasn't dead or missing or whatever happened to those people stolen by the Shadow, and he was even luckier that he'd managed to pass that trial and obtain the orb that allowed the first bit of luck. Viktor wasn't one to be stressed in the moment, but just then he felt a wave of relief wash over him that he survived and managed these scenarios.

This wave of relief followed Viktor to dreamland. He walked into a grand courtroom in terrible disrepair. The tiles were cracked and stained with rainwater that had leaked in from holes in the ceiling. The carpeting which led from the doorway to the thrones, seemingly once purple or red, had long since lost all its saturation to the slow but steady elemental wear. The stained glass windows had nearly all shattered. The cause of most or all of this was a gigantic hole in the left-hand wall, as if a giant had kicked it in.

Viktor was so preoccupied by staring at that hole he was startled by the sudden movement in front of him.

Between the thrones there was a large amber pod, shaped and layered like a cocoon. It all effervesced a magical aura as powerful as the scent of bleach, such that even a non-sorcerer like Viktor could feel it. Inside the cocoon was a man, perhaps a head shorter than Viktor although it was difficult to tell between the distance and the stairs and the fact that the man was sort of floating inside the cocoon. The shape of his eyes and the manner of his dress more than demonstrated his opulence. Yet he looked both too old and too young - he had to be slightly younger than Viktor, but there was a tired expression on his face that Viktor had only ever seen on immensely old people.

Viktor slowly moved towards the small staircase that led up to the thrones and, as such, the cocoon. Just as he made to walk up it, the cocoon moved. It cracked and exploded and fell in on itself and disappeard, in one instant. The magical energy that rushed by him felt like a shockwave, and Viktor stumbled backwards.

That stumble was nothing compared to the way the man walked towards him. It looked somewhat like a baby deer taking its first steps, if the deer was drunk and had one broken leg. The man fell over himself as if he had literally forgotten how to walk. His black hair fell over his face and he looked shocked, his hand moved up to adjust it and then he stared at his palm, astonished. At this moment, he tripped over his long gown and haphazardly fell down the stairs into Viktor's arms.

"Yuuri?"

* * *

 

Viktor awoke the next morning just in time for breakfast. He wasn't used to waking up when the sun was already up, but since he fell asleep in the middle of the night, it makes sense that his rhythm would be thrown off. He tried to shake the feeling from his seemingly prophetic dream about Prince Yuuri as he walked down the staircase. 

There was a plethora of food of a huge variety of smells set on what had last night been the bar, coloring the air, all seeming handmade. The same lady from last night was moving around putting more food out by the minute, and a few people were moving around collecting food and putting it on wooden boards to take to tables. Viktor grabbed a board of his own and grabbed a few pieces of warm bread, some smoked meat, and a glass of juice from a fruit he'd never seen before. He wolfed it all down, not knowing how tired he was from yesterday's venture, suddenly realizing he hadn't eaten that whole time, either. 

He was going back for seconds when he caught the eye of an elderly woman, just for a moment, but she looked so shocked at his presence that he was frozen for an instant. The crowd around her seemed to blur into monotone, piercing blue eyes burned into his own from behind a large sunhat. Her wrinkled skin turned paler than parchment as she stared, shocked. But before he could go over to her and ask why she seemed so purturbed, she blended back into the growing crowd, the world spinning back into color.

He went back to grabbing more food, a little disoriented. He did his best to put it out of his mind, raking his fingers through his silvery bangs. He ate his fill, not recalling the last time he'd eaten anything other than fish and unsure of the next time he would be able to. He tried to make himself enjoy it for that reason, but after such a disconcerting encounter, he felt somewhat numb. Then, he left, and on his way down the street to find someone to ask about the local legends, the elderly woman he'd seen earlier called to him from a bench.

"Boy? Come here," she nearly whispered.

He turned his head and saw her feeding bread crumbs to some sparrows. "Yes ma'am?" he asked carefully as he walked over. He felt an odd sense of trepedation coming on, but he pushed it back down.

"I saw you in the tavern earlier," she said in a hoarse voice. 

"Yes," he replied, "You stared at me. If you don't mind my asking..." He paused. "Why?"

She looked to him. "I am very sorry for that." She stood, and the sparrows looked up at her tiny form hopefully, expecting more crumbs. She walked away, motioning for Viktor to follow her. He did. "Your hair... caught my eye. Few so young have locks so old. You reminded me of a... forgive the comparison... a hero from legend."

Viktor was struck. He wasn't aware of a description existing anywhere for the hero destined to save the sleeping prince. Well, better invest in a hat, then. Didn't want his goals broadcast to the world. "I... hm," was all he could say to the old woman.

"It is a silly thought," she said, as they came upon a building that looked like it had been in the village the longest. Flowers began to blossom in a homely garden bed out front, a smell like freshly baked bread wafted out open windows. She opened the door and gestured for Viktor to come inside. "Please, come. You look like you have something to ask that is best asked in private."

She was right, but Viktor had no idea how she knew. Once he was inside, he told her so. "I did have a question," he said. "I'm not sure whether it would be best asked in private. I want to know what legends your village has surrounding the hero of legend. I... I'm a traveller."

The woman nodded. "Before I answer your question, traveller, may I learn your name?"

"Viktor," he replied. "Viktor Nikiforov."

* * *

 

The woman had practically fainted after that. When he could get her to stop staring like the dead, she whispered, "It is true..."

"What is true?" he asked, though on some level, he already knew.

Abruptly, she regained her composure. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with..." she cleared her throat, "Viktor. 'Tis but the musing of an old lady." She walked over to a nearby rocking chair about half the size of an ordinary one and seating herself, pulling a crochet blanket round her shoulders. He sat on an adjacent couch that was big enough for visitors. "My name is Lilia."

"A pleasure," Viktor said, trying to pretend the previous seconds hadn't happened. "You said you were going to tell me about the hero?"

"Yes..." Lilia said, gesturing a wrinled finger toward the long tapestry on the far wall. Viktor noticed, but said nothing about, the fact that the tapestry had runes in the same language as the doorway in the wood. "The legends tell of a hero with hair of silver and blades of gold. He will wake the prince of Oskaria, Yuuri, from his slumber of centuries, by banishing the Shadow beyond the Veil." She gestured to the four corners of the tapestry, which each held a symbol and a picture. "There will be four trials in the forests, four trials in the fields, four trials upon the waters, and four trials in the mountains."

Viktor watched as Lilia explained, and found himself wondering why there was no reference to skating at all in these legends. _Besides "blades of gold", which could easily refer to some set of weapons, there's really no way anybody could know that the hero was a skater. I wonder what other pieces of the legend have been fragmented, what other pieces I can learn in my travels._

He hadn't realized Lilia was done talking until she stared at him expectantly. "Oh, yes," he said, "Thank you. I, um... I wouldn't have known a lot of that if I stayed in my home town."

"Is that why you travel?" Lilia asked skeptically. "To learn the story of the hero?"

Viktor nodded. "It might sound silly, ma'am, but I heard the story growing up and thought, there must be more to this. So I packed up to travel to other towns, to learn more."

"I see..." Lilia stared across the room at the tapestry, and back to Viktor. "Pray tell, what does the story from your village say?"

"It tells of a hero of the light, one who banishes the Shadow to beyond the Veil, but..." Viktor glances at his hands, at his lap, and back up at Lilia. "Promise not to speak of this to anyone? It might sound silly, but I don't want anybody else getting their hands on this knowledge. I trust you, you've shown me that I can, but I'm afraid this information in the wrong hands could help the Shadow and its followers."

Lilia nodded. "I swear," she said, "and for the record, that doesn't sound silly. It's perfectly understandable. If you don't want to tell me at all, that is fine."

Viktor shook his head. "I'll tell you. You seem like a kind soul." He gave her a smile, and she gave a world-weary one back. "The hero in my village's legends... is a figure skater."

Lilia's eyes went wide again. Viktor seemed to be giving her a lot of important realizations lately. She hopped up from her small chair and, with renewed vigor, ran as fast as her stubby legs could carry her over to a box that looked perhaps even older than the house itself, perhaps as old as the tapestry on the wall. She yanked out another ancient-looking piece of parchment and waddled back to Viktor, unrolling it, and showing the portrait to him.

On it was a man with silvery hair, much shorter than Viktor's was at that time, perhaps shoulder-length, but with the same characteristic bangs hanging over his left eye. He was more muscular than Viktor was and he wore something like high-heeled black boots, skin-tight black pants with gemstones sewn into the sides, and a very strange white tunic which seemed to fail to obey the ordinary constraints of sewn fabric. He held between his fingers a set of golden throwing daggers. Despite the massive amounts of artistic rendering, the man still looked older than Viktor, though not by very much, and at the bottom of the tapestry were two words in those ancient characters.

Lilia pointed to those characters. "This is one of the few lines of ancient writing scholars have managed to decipher," she said, "It says _Viktor Nikiforov._ "

Viktor sat there for a thick moment, processing the information he was just given. "Oh," he said, finally. "I see."

* * *

 

"Um, so, give people fake names for inns from now on, then," Viktor said, rubbing the back of his neck. "And cut my hair. And buy a hat."  
Lilia nodded. "As I've made it my life's work to find out about the hero, I shall help him now that he has so abruptly shown up at my doorstep. Come, child, I'll help you cut your hair so you can fit it into a hat. We're keeping your identity secret from now on. We don't want anybody else to know who you are than those who already do..." she paused, in silent decision, "Shura." She went off, and Viktor took another step back to consider where this adventure had gotten him. Okay, so _he_ was the hero of legend. That would explain why the skates fit. He didn't think he was the first baby to be born with silver hair, though... what about the others? And had his parents known about this legend when they named him? He'd never known his birth-parents...

Lilia came back with a pair of scissors and a black woolen cap that looked like she'd knit it herself. She sat him down in her kitchen and he watched as silver locks he'd spent his whole life growing fall to the floor. They looked like patches of ice, shining in the sunlight.

"There, finished," Lilia said, getting off her stool and putting her scissors down on the counter. He walked over to the wall and looked at his reflection in the looking-glass. Barely enough hair to put into a high ponytail and cover with a hat. He did just that once Lilia handed him the black cap, stuffing his bangs back into it as well. A little out of place for mid-spring, but better than broacasting "Hey, I'm the legendary hero! Come find and kill me, Shadow followers!". 

Before he left, Lilia had one last thing to say to him.

"Viktor," she spoke quietly, "Pack your things from the inn and leave this town. Never come back. Your name is now Shura Nazarov."

"Thank you, Lilia," Viktor said, flashing a beautiful smile. "You've helped me a lot. I have one last question, forget about it if it sounds silly: Is there anywhere around here a sheet of ice that doesn't melt year-round?"

"That does in fact sound silly," Lilia said, "But I won't forget about it. I'll contact you under the name Shura Nazarov if I find out anything about that. I have my ways of getting messages around." She gave a wink, and then practically shoved him out the door. "Now go! The Shadow will find you if you stay here."

Viktor nodded, jogged (purposefully trying not to look like he was in a hurry) over to the inn, grabbed all his belongings, stuffing his skates and the glowing orb into his backpack, and setting out, just as the sun was approaching its midpoint in the sky.

* * *

 

_Four in the forest, four in the plains, four on the water, four in the mountains,_ Viktor thought. He pulled out the map of Oskaria he'd bought from a shop on the way out of town and consulted it. There were two mountain ranges in the country, and neither too close to him. So that was out, for now. Four on the water... There were many lakes dotting the landscape, and many more rivers, but the closest one was already behind him. Forests were likewise. But plains... there was something that could be considered a plain that he was trekking through right now. Long hay grasses blowing about with the winds, the occasional small shading tree, large swaths of hills and small cliffs he had to navigate around. The sun high in the sky, a sheet of ice might be indistinguishible from a lake in its shimmer and reflectiveness. 

So Viktor went to every lake he saw, every one spotted across the landscape, even the tiny ones, especially the tiny ones, just in case they might be sheets of ice. He kept his compass in one hand the entire time to make sure he didn't accidentally walk in circles; he was very happy he'd brought it. As the sun began to set, he pulled his glowing orb from his backpack and kept walking, whenever he got too tired to walk any longer, he set his fur coat on the ground as a pillow and slept where he stood, orb under one arm to keep away the Shadow. Some nights, and especially once he woke up from nightmares to the darkness, he stared out into the darkened, starless sky and saw the tendrils of the Shadow moving back and forth, scoping him out. He knew the Shadow itself couldn't see him, that these were just scouts of the night, but each time he saw them move he felt watched, and the light shield brought about by his orb seemed a little more precarious.

After at least a week of walking, fishing at whatever lake he came upon, cooking his food, and walking again, Viktor came upon another town, first a speck in the distance, then growing into thatched rooves and dirt roads. As he moved closer he saw people and livestock in addition to buildings. The people wore thatched straw hats, which made perfect sense: it was exceedingly hot. Viktor considered switching his woolen cap for one of those: it seemed to shade the hair and face, and it would have the same effect as his current headpiece without making him so overheated. He made a mental note to find one and buy it once he entered town.

Before he was able to do that, he was run into by a small child: a tanned young girl of 6 or so years, with dark hair which barely peeked out from under her hat. Viktor stumbled slightly, but the child was knocked over completely. In a moment she sprung back onto her feet like an uncoiling spring, exclaimed a "Sorry mister!", and was about to run off when she saw his hat. She turned around and pointed, her vibrantly green eyes excited but her eyebrows confused. "Aren't you hot?" she asked.

Viktor wiped some sweat off his brow, flashed a tired smile, "Yes, actually, I am. Do you know where I could buy a hat like yours?"

"Of course!" the little girl exclaimed in an accent Viktor had never heard before and only just got around to processing. It had to be something European—Swedish perhaps?—but beyond that he couldn't be sure. She pointed to a shop at the edge of town. "My daddy makes them from straw and twine! He sells them to the whole town and to travellers! You're a traveller, aren't you? What's your name?"

"I am," Viktor said, smiling. Little children always made him happy. "My name is... Shura. What's yours, little one?"

"Oh, okay! Cool! My name's Sabina! Well go see my daddy if you want a cool hat, okay mister Shura? Bye!" And with that, Sabina ran off.

* * *

 

It was a little bit of an odd thought to fully realize, but Viktor thought about how the different subcultures in Oskaria had become so pronounced since the Shadow came. Because there was no real way to get from any one village to any other that was more than a day away on horseback, there was nowhere near as much communication across the country as there used to be, and cultures and accents were much more pronounced. His own accent would likely be the bane of his travels to other places.

Viktor entered the shop and saw a stout, middle-aged man with his back to the door weaving straws together in a triangular shape. He looked like he was finishing up a hat.

"Hello?" Viktor asked, "Are you open?"

The man flipped around quickly. "Yes, we're open. Do ye need a hat? Passing through these parts?"

"Excellent." Viktor walked up to the counter where the man had been working. "Yes, I need a hat. I'm a traveller, on a quest to learn stories of the legendary hero." It was still a good cover story for anybody who didn't have the same one.

"Ah, a traveller... well, I do make custom hats, which could take a day or so. Less if ye'd help me tend my fields, and I'd drop the price for ye 'swell if ye did that."

"I'd be happy to help, mister..."

"Oxar," the man replied with a wrinkled smile. He looked up from the hat he was working on. "I'll need your measurements. Would you mind taking yer cap off for me, sir?"

"Um... I'd rather not. I'm alright if it fits a little loose."

"Why'sat, boy? Ye bald?" Oxar gave a chortle, then came around with his measuring tape and gave Viktor a smack on the back just as the younger man was trying to come up with something to say. "I'm just messing with ye. It's my policy to not ask about a customer's head if 'e don't want me to." He measured around Viktor's head, took note of the number, and went back to his work.

"If ye'll be helping me tend to my fields, ye can stay in my house. It's just across the way, I have a couple apprentices there who'll be happy to getcha a room, and my daughter Sabina might be home 'swell."

"Thank you, Oxar. You're very kind." Viktor flashed him a grin.

"And ye have a smile that belongs in a painting!" The older man said after him. Through the closed door, he laughed.

* * *

 

Viktor walked across the dirt pathway to a large house with a large porch and a door with a sheet of woven straw hanging in front of it. He knocked on the doorframe, and a man who looked about five or six years younger than himself opened the door. He had bleach-blond hair, a freckled face, and a thin but muscular frame, he wore a long-sleeved baggy shirt and shorts with enough pockets to hold several pounds of trinkets. 

"Oh, Oxar has another helper," the man mumbled, as if the words left an odd taste in his mouth. "Come on in," he told Viktor, gesturing inside with a calloused hand. "There are four of us right now- well, five- but we have another room. Trust Oxar offered ye a cheap hat for yer work? And what's yer name, by the way?"

"That's true," Viktor said with a superficial smile. "Good price for a free room. And it's Shura."

"Hm. It might be useless to introduce ye to everybody, then," the blond man said, "But I'll do it anyway." He raised his voice to shout up at the ceiling, "Hey! Y'all! Come on and meet our new helper!"

Thundrous footsteps fell down the stairs. Another man with auburn hair came down the stairs in nothing but a long nightshirt with a sleepy look on his face. Then there were two women, one looking strong enough to lift and throw the other, both with short brownish hair and wearing those triangular straw hats. Both the women are wearing tattered denim trousers over flannel shirts. Viktor noted the matching tattoos encircling the girls' wrists above linked hands. 

"This is Ninna," the blond man introduced the woman who seemed to be carved from stone. She gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"And this is-"

"Hi!" The thin woman cut him off, "I'm Brigit and I'm apprenticed to Oxar with my beautiful wife Ninna here! I hope you're here for longer than a day like the rest, I'd love to get to know you, you look sooooooo interesting! I like your hat! We always have the same boring ones, and though they're really great for, like, shade and such, it's always nice to see something new! That's why I love Ninna! She's always got something new to say! Right babe?"

"Hm." If Viktor squinted, he might have seen Ninna's lips turn upward, but then again, maybe not.

"Right!" Brigit agreed with herself.

"Yeah, that," the blond man breathed. "I'm Dalmann. That's Kristall. Everybody, this is Shura." Dalmann gestured to the auburn-haired man who was now staring at Viktor. He wondered if a strand of his hair had slipped out of his hat.

"Um, hi...?" Viktor fought the urge to wave a hand in front of Kristall's face. Some nondescript emotion swirled in his green eyes.

"Oh! Hi! Sorry. You're, um... nevermind. I-I'll show you your room." Kristall stumbled over his feet up the narrow staircase, a very confused and slightly concerned Viktor followed.

* * *

 

Kristall led him to the first room on the right. "This is, um... one of our guest rooms. You can stay here, y'know, if you want." He opened the door and let Viktor in, still somewhat clumsy. Viktor wondered why until he turned to look at the younger man and saw a light blush across his face. 

_Oh,_ Viktor thought as he finally realized why his escort had been stumbling over himself. A smirk made its way onto his lips. _Oh, alright. Let's just see about that._

"Excuse me," Viktor said, just as Kristall was about to leave. "Pardon the intrusion... Do you have anywhere I might draw myself a bath? I am tryingly tired after such a long journey..." He practically moaned out that sentence, making a show of fanning his shirt collar against sunbitten skin.

"Oh! Um... yes... we... do have a bath... we don't use it too often but... I'll just show you where it is. And you can, um... bathe and stuff... yeah..." Kristall practically ran down the stairs, and Viktor followed him with a sly sway to his hips.

There was a large wooden tub out the back door, held together by iron rings. It was deep enough to sit up in and long enough to stretch out in. It also looked like it hadn't been used in years. 

"I'll go get some water! And soap! And other stuff... you just get comfortable, and, um, stuff." He waved his hand before dashing off. 

Viktor immediately began pulling off his boots, which stuck to his feet with sweat. He made a mental note to find a pair of sandals like the kind the other townspeople had as he tossed one of his shoes aside. He had just taken off the other one when he heard a clamour of footsteps across the grass.

"Shura!" Kristall called, "I just turned on the water, I'll put the bath here." He moves the bath under a spout on the roof that Viktor hadn't seen before. "It should start filling soon. I can, um, leave if you want..." He started pulling at the collar of his shirt nervously, deliberately averting his eyes as Viktor removed his.

"It's fine, Kristall, you can watch if you want. I'm not modest." Viktor gave a near-audible wink, which as he now expected, caused the other man to blush furiously.

"It's okay I'll just stand over here if you need me but call if you need anything okay bye," Kristall spoke so fast the words began to blur together, darting around the corner. 

Viktor gave a short hum as he tossed his shirt aside and stepped out of his trousers. The water splashed from the spout and into the tub, the steam smelling of grasses and herbs. He eased himself into the hot tub and feels very glad he asked this particular favor. It was always something he asked of people he suspected of having crushes on him, notably because it gave him a reasonable excuse to get naked in front of the person in question, but in this particular instance, an herbal bath was just what he needed.

After a short time, he called out, "Kristall, may I request some soap, please?" The other man quickly returned with a hand covering his eyes and presented a bar of soap, petals of red flowers embedded in its pearly surface. Viktor accepted the bar with a saucy "Thank you, Kristall" and relished in the chirp that came from the younger man's lips before he scampered off. Then he took to washing himself, happy with the scent of roses that effervesced from it.

* * *

 

By the time Viktor finished his bath, it was mid-afternoon, and besides Kristall, who was getting dressed in the main room of the house himself, everybody was out somewhere. Viktor asked Kristall where they had gone, and the auburn-haired man had replied, "They're probably out in the fields with Oxar. Planting. Y'know. I need to go join them, you should too."

"Absolutely," Viktor replied, pulling his cyan shirt over his head and following as Kristall walked out the door. "Would you be so kind as to show me the way?"

"Oh, um, sure. It's just this way." Kristall gestured in the direction he was already walking, and Viktor followed in his stride. 

The farm was across town, but given how small that town was, it was a short walk. They arrived a few minutes later and saw Ninna pulling a wheelbarrow full of seeds along paths, Brigit taking a seed carefully from the pile for each little hole in the ground and planting it. Dalmann was hoeing the ground a good ways ahead of them, and Oxar was digging out the little holes for the seeds behind him with a spade. The smell of tilled earth and mulch filled Viktor's nose as he approached the fields.

"What are we doing?" Viktor asked. "I've never worked on a farm before; I come from a fishing village."

"Oh, well, I usually come thorugh and cover up the holes after Brigit puts the seeds in. I dunno what you'll be doing—probably tending the crops over there, watering em and such. You should go to Oxar and see."

Viktor nodded and walked over to the man crouched over the soil. "Excuse me? Oxar? I'm here to help, what do you want me to do?"

"Oh! Shura! Hello! You can go and check on those blackberries, water them if they need it. Just check if the soil is wet enough, and if not, pour a little from your can on it! Simple as that. You can refill your can at that well over there." He gestured at a barely-visible stone structure at the field's opposite edge, then handed Viktor a watering can. "We're done at sundown."

* * *

 

It was _exciting_ to do something new, even something as generally monotonous as watering plants. Viktor almost never got to do that at home, and he welcomed the change. Not that he didn't enjoy fishing, it just became... boring. A good part of why he set out on this adventure was because he needed a change, and the prince had promised to give him that change - well, figuratively, anyway.

The field was just so big, big enough to feed the entire village, and Viktor got somewhat carried away in watering other plants than the ones he'd been told to. He wouldn't have stopped if Oxar hadn't come over to inform him that it was getting dark, and they should head inside. With all the weeks he spent with his orb of protection, Viktor almost forgot that the darkness was something to fear. He had to pretend he didn't have that orb, too.

"Shura," Oxar had called to him, "It's getting dark, we should go inside. Come on, quickly now. Don't want to get swallowed up, now do we?" He gave a chuckle, but it clearly had a darker undertone to it.

"Oh, thank you, Oxar," Viktor lied, pouring a little more honey onto his words to sweeten it, "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't reminded me. I can get so carried away sometimes."

"It's fine, son," Oxar said as they walked back to the house with no small amount of celerity. "Ye were out there a long time. The kids and I went in for supper a good while ago, good thing I thought to go check on ye. Ye couldn't take _that_ long just watering the blackberries, though. What else did ye do?"

"Um... to be honest I'm not sure. I did that whole half of the field." Viktor gestured to the half he'd been working on that afternoon. 

"Wow, son," Oxar said as they entered the house just as the sun began to set. Viktor welcomed the cool shade of the house and wiped his forehead. "In that case, yer hat's paid for! And I'll give ye a little extra, too!"

"It's not that hard," Viktor said. "I'll take the hat, but keep the change. Really, it was great to do something new. I had a good time."

Oxar chuckled. "Well alright then. Go ahead and grab some food from the kitchen, then, and get some rest. I'm nearly done with yer hat, it'll be finished when ye wake up tomorrow and ye can be on yer way. Yer a traveller, ain't'cha?"

Viktor smiled. "Yes, I am." He was about to make his way into the kitchen for a much-needed meal when he turned again. "Hey, Oxar? I have a question."

"Shoot."

"What are the legends around here surrounding the hero of legend? The one who's supposed to save the prince?"

"Ye said that was why ye were travelling earlier, yes... Well, around here, stories get passed around about the hero tracing a pattern on the ice with golden blades to seal the Shadow after weakening the darkness with the colors of the light. We have paintings done on ancient parchment depicting the orbs of light channeling the hero's life-force to defeat the Shadow."

"Would you... show me these paintings? Tomorrow? I'd like to see that before I leave."

"Of course." Oxar smiled. "Now, eat. You deserve it."

* * *

 

_"Now! Go!" the prince's voice was close now, shouting from right behind Viktor's ear. Viktor knew exactly what he had to do, and he leapt onto the ice. The opening of the song was slow and graceful, but the rapid beating of his heart wouldn't let him enjoy it. The music sped gradually, and Viktor struck a pose like a ballerina in center ice, en pointe, and moved with as much speed and grace as his body could muster. His mind knew the meaning, his body knew the rhythm, and through these his movements were guided. He felt the colors of the orbs flow through his soul, focusing his thoughts; accompanying encouraging words from Yuuri._

_An accent, a jump, and another after that. So many rotations in the air, and so close to the edge. A spiral, legs in almost a full 180 degrees. Lunge into a spin that centered perfectly in place. Exit in exactly the right spot, move into a step sequence. Each edge and turn calculated and precise; it needed to be to seal the Shadow._

_Viktor felt the darkness moving under his blades, trying to force him off balance. No, focus. Don't think about it. Just focus on the routine, the presentation, the form. Just focus on..._

_"Vitya! You can do it! Keep going!"_

_Yuuri._

* * *

Viktor woke in a cold sweat, jolting upright in the bed. It was early, too early. He glanced out the window. Still the middle of the night. Why was he so nervous?

Then he understood. He wasn't nervous. He was excited. He hadn't recalled the last time he felt so _good._ It just renewed his resolve in his quest that he was so excited to skate before the Prince. He brushed his cheek with his knuckles, feeling the heat nip his skin. Was he blushing? He didn't recall the last time he actually blushed. 

Viktor blinked into the darkness a few times, then once more when that didn't seem to help. Did he have a _crush_ on the prince?

* * *

 

Viktor hadn't been able to get to sleep again after that realization, and soon he heard Oxar's distinctive heavy footsteps coming down the hallway towards his room. He was dressed and at the door before the man's first knock came, and when it did, Viktor opened the door immediately.

"Oh, hi, Shura. Glad you're up. Ye wanted to see the paintings, and I thought we should do it before everyone else woke so I'd have some time to see ye off before I had to get to work. Yer hat's on the counter downstairs, by the way."

"Thanks, Oxar. I really appreciate it." Viktor descended the stairs so quickly and smoothly it looked to be in a single bound, grabbing his pointed straw hat from the counter before leaving after the older man. 

They walked in silence in the early morning air through the small village toward a building in the center that looked to be some sort of town hall, or village meeting place. Oxar led him inside and up towards a set of paintings on the left wall. There was a large one in the center that depicted an obsidian-colored rack with sixteen glowing orbs set into it, each orb streaming a different color into the back of a man with silvery hair, pulled up into a ponytail with a thick piece of red wrinkled fabric, en pointe in white ballet shoes and looking to be standing on a lake before a huge castle.

There were a few others, other angles of the silver-haired man, in different art styles, but they depicted different bits of the same scene. The part that made Viktor pause was that he'd dreamt this exact scene last night, and these paintings looked like renderings of what he might depict if he were to try to put what he saw to paper. It was easy to see how a sheet of ice might be resolved into a lake, figure skates into ballet shoes, by a human mind who doesn't know what he's seeing. That seemed to be a theme among pieces of the legend: slightly incomplete but understandable renderings of a common scene. Perhaps the only reason his town had known the hero was a figure skater was that they knew what skates were, figure or otherwise.

"These paintings were done by the more artistic of the prophets through the centuries," Oxar said, gesturing to the parchments attached to the walls. "During the time Prince Yuuri has been in stasis."

Viktor nodded, nothing more to say but "Thank you." Then he left with his things, in search of the next town, or the next sheet of unmelting ice, whichever came first.


	2. Trial 2: Second Skate! Prince Yuuri, is That You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy! Yuuri already! Let the cuteness ensue ^u^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, as promised, next chapter! This one is short so I'll post the next one today as well (even though, as a cruel author, I would rather make you wait after this cliffhanger >:D).

It turned out that the next thing he'd find was a sheet of ice. It was just on top of the sort of hill that was just small enough that you didn't feel the need to climb it to see what was up there, but that was just tall enough that you couldn't see the top. Viktor climbed it anyway, and was overjoyed when he stood on it in his shoes to make sure it was really ice and not just a flat lake. He immediately laced his skates up and stepped on.

This time, the instant his blades touched the ice, the door materialized, the runes glowing orange this time. There was the same metallic clang that rang across the ice, and the Watching Eye awoke. The same voice as before said the same words, but they still made Viktor's blood chill. It didn't help that it seemed significantly cooler on the ice sheet than in the surrounding area.

_He who skates well shall be granted passage. Good luck. I am watching._

Viktor wondered for a moment who the "I" was who was watching him. He entertained the momentary thought that it might be the prince himself, but then decided that was unlikely; the prince was using his entire life-force to hold the Shadow back. He probably didn't have a thought to spare to watch Viktor go through these trials.

When he was prepared, he clinked his blades together and got into his starting pose: arms crossed in front of him, fingers splayed, chin pointed down. One foot behind the other, toe in the ice.

The music started immediately. He heard the cellos, echoing through the hills and across the plains, as if they were right by the side of the ice, though there was nothing there. Three backward cross rolls, then turns into a spin just as the violins joined the melody. Exit the spin on the downbeat and go right into the step sequence, taking a serpentine pattern across the whole sheet. Every movement was perfect, the fiery anger of the song flowing through Viktor's limbs. Except...

Viktor felt the ice moving. At first he attributed it to fatigue. But then he remembered his dream from that night at Oxar's house and thought otherwise. _This is the Shadow,_ he thought, _trying to throw me off. I need to focus._ He focused so hard he almost forgot the next steps of the program, but the music reminded him: a twizzle and a spiral. He felt like the ice was tilting back and forth under him, keeping his balance even in such a simple maneuver was a massive challenge. Yet somehow, after that spiral and one final spin, as the notes fell over each other into a diminuendo and he raised his arms over his head, he managed. 

He collapsed to his knees as soon as the doors began to open, not having realized how astonishingly out of breath he was. He lay there, panting, trying to make his eyes focus, for at least as long as it took for the doors to open all the way.

And then he heard something. A voice. Calling as if from far away, but as he looked around the surrounding field, he saw nobody. He couldn't make out the words at first, and the fact that the voice had an accent he couldn't quite place didn't help, but soon it was loud enough for him to hear. _Don't give up, hero. Please. I need you. Stay strong._

"Who are you?" Viktor shouted into the void.

The voice made somewhat of a whimpering noise, like the question hurt him. _I'm the reason for your quest, hero. Or, I think so..._

_The prince._ The pang of realization hit Viktor's mind and he immediately regretted his question. _Oh._ "You are," Viktor said aloud, "You are. I... didn't expect you to be able to talk to me."

_"Ah. I should have expected that."_ The voice- The prince paused. _"I am truly sorry, hero. Yes, I am able to speak to you. I have been watching you overcome these past two trials, and it gives me hope that you shall be able to pass the next fourteen. However..."_

Viktor waited a few moments during which the prince didn't continue before speaking up. "However...?"

_"My time is running out. Faster than I expected it to. I feel my hold over the Shadow growing weak. I cannot help you... I can only tell you to hurry, hero. The Shadow controls the night already... should my hold over it destabilize, it would destroy the day as well. No light would get through to the world any longer, and whatever life anyone has in this world would become nothing but misery. I... need your help. Everyone does."_

"I understand," Viktor said. Through whatever rift enabled their communication, he felt a wave of relief wash over the prince. "I'll do my best. I do have a request, though, your highness."

_"Yes?"_

"Could you tell me where the trials are? I'm having to spend a lot of time finding them, and if I knew where they were I could finish them faster."

There was a long pause, and Viktor wondered whether the prince was still listening to him. There was really no way to tell. "Hello? Yuuri?" he called warily.

_"I didn't think of that,"_ the prince's voice came, finally. _"Why didn't I think of that?"_

"You're using all your strength to hold back the Shadow. You've been doing that for centuries. It's understandable that you might not think of things." Viktor swore he was going to hug Yuuri so hard when he climbed out of that stasis pod. He didn't really know whether hugging royalty was appropriate, but damn, it really sounded like Yuuri needed it.

_"Okay..."_ Yuuri sounded relieved. _"Do you have a map? I can tell you where the trials are, but I can't really do anything else. I wish I could help more..."_

"That's fine, Yuuri." _When did I get on a first-name basis with the prince? He doesn't seem to mind..._ "Thank you. I do have a map, it's in my backpack. Let me grab it." Viktor stood up, finally feeling the cold of the now-melted ice on his legs. He shivered slightly and wished he'd brought more than one pair of trousers as he opened up his backpack and pulled out his map and a pencil.

_"There's one on the southernmost peak in the Elms Mountains,"_ the prince instructed, and Viktor made a mark on his map there. _"Another at the base of the northernmost peak, on the eastern side... another in a cave on the same peak's western side."_

This instruction continued, Viktor moving his hand under different parts of his map and making marks, accompanying them with notes as to more specific attributes of the trials' locations. Viktor was just happy the map had labels; he had no idea how Yuuri kept the names of every hill, valley, and pass in his head. That, and he was exceedingly happy he'd asked that of the prince: a lot of these trials were in locations he would never think to check. 

 

When they were finished, there was a long silence between them, the sort of awkward silence wherein both people want to keep talking but neither is sure about what.

"How are you talking to me?" Viktor asked suddenly.

Yuuri hummed—a cute, low note full of contentness—and said, _"That orb of yours. It's a useful piece of magic."_

"Oh!" Viktor pulled it out and held it in his palm. "Why didn't I think of that?"

They both chuckled at that, and Viktor got this feeling like he'd known this man his entire life. Not only that, he felt his heartstrings tugged towards this man he'd really just met. He hadn't felt anything for anyone beyond a rudimentary affection towards his family and friends for years, perhaps decades. This sudden development was... well, sudden. And unprecedented. Not to mention incredibly unlikely. Still... Viktor didn't _dislike_ it.

"Can I... talk to you whenever?"

_"Sadly, no... I was able to guide you now, but I likely won't be able to speak again for a while. I am using all my thoughts to maintain my hold over the Shadow. This brief conversation was an exception, rather than a rule, I am afraid..."_

_The princely tone is back,_ Viktor thought. "Okay, Yuuri. That's fine. I can manage. I've made it this far, haven't I?"

_"Mhm. I believe in you. It's me I'm worried about."_ The prince gave a light chuckle. 

"Don't be. Yuuri, you are so strong. I admire that about you. I'm not the knight in shining armor coming to sweep the helpless prince off his feet. You're contributing just as much to your own salvation as I am. Never forget that." Viktor smiled into the orb, holding it close as if hugging the prince talking to him through it. 

Prince Yuuri hummed once more. He was, Viktor was beginning to realize, the sort of person who didn't do well when left alone with his own thoughts, let alone with the fate of a nation on his shoulders. If there was anything he could do to help the prince with his duty, it was simply to reassure him. 

_"Oh! I almost forgot. One more thing. That red thing around your wrist is a scrunchie, and it goes in your hair."_

"Ah! I see..." Viktor looked around once, twice, and then pulled his cap off. He smoothed his hair through his hands, gathered it up at the nape of his neck, and twisted the stretchy "scrunchie" around it. "Do I look cute?" he asked, looking straight into the Watching Eye with a heart-shaped smile.

_"You look adorable,"_ Yuuri said before he caught himself. _"Er, I mean..."_

"I know what you mean," Viktor said with a knowing wink. 

_"And, um, it's called the Scrunchie of Power because, um, it'll increase your strength, like, jump straight up right now, you'll see you can jump about twice as high and your legs will hold you when you come down..."_

Viktor did in fact jump, and he noticed a significant increase in how high he could leap. "Wow, Yuuri! This is great! Can I lift heavier stuff too?"

_"Yes, you can. The scrunchie increases the energy in your muscles so you can do just about anything better. Now, um... I have to go. It's been over half an hour, my power needs to be elsewhere..."_

"I understand, Yuuri. Stay strong! I'll complete these trials and be there to save you in no time."

_"Okay."_ Viktor heard the prince's voice growing softer, weaker. He debated whether to say what he wanted to or not. On the one hand, it was rash and impulsive as anything could possibly be. On the other, that had never stopped Viktor before, that was why he was on this little adventure. He didn't know when or if he'd get to talk to the prince again. He decided.

"Hey, Yuuri?"

_"Hm?"_ the voice was almost inaudible now. He didn't have much time.

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Confession™
> 
> I would appreciate any comment at all! Constructive criticism is best but I appreciate literally anything!!! Seriously I would appreciate it if you said "that was kinda ok" and nothing else. I just like to know people are reading my work! You guys are the actual best and when I woke up this morning to almost 20 kudos in less than a day, I made a noise like a dying walrus and flailed helplessly on my bed for like ten minutes before my sweet boyfriend got worried about me >v>
> 
> In short: THANK YOUUUUUUUUUU SO MUUUUUCH <3 <3 <3


	3. Trial 3: Third Skate! Two Viktors? The Horror!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter highlights:  
> \- Introducing Yurio!  
> \- Enter (possibly evil) nonbinary character, Onyx!  
> \- (rather short) Yuuri POV!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea whether y'all are going to love or hate this chapter. When I gave it to my sister, who's a novelist, to proofread, she adored it and how I incorporated our favorite angsty gay fairy. I suppose we'll have to see; please tell me which was your reaction!
> 
> Again, and you're going to get very sick of me saying this, I LOOOOOOOVE any help or criticism or any comment at all <3 If you have a suggestion for how the plot should go, I'm all ears!!! If you want to rant, please do!!! If this chapter made you make some inhuman noise of some variety (I know it made me do so several times while writing it!), please attempt to describe it in the comments!!! THANK YOUUUUU <3

_That was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Twice and again more impulsive than anything else you've ever done in your whole life._ Viktor's thoughts are sounding annoyingly like his papa Yakov. He's right, though, either himself or his inner papa. He didn't get to hear Yuuri's response to his confession, but it was still ill-advised, and he was absolutely positive the reaction was something like _"What on earth are you even saying, you've met me once for half an hour, I'm not your sleeping beauty"_. Nothing seemed to be able to convince him to think of anything else except the myriad ways he had just made an ass of himself.

He was coming up on the closest ice sheet. Knowing where they were really helped. He was fortunate to have had Yuuri's help for that much, though he might not ever get it again. Even if Yuuri was inclined to help him, it would be for the safety of himself and his country. Hell, that was probably the reason for this communication. And Viktor had gone and ruined it with a blatant declaration of the most obviously unreciprocated love in the world.

What he said was true, though... it was impulsive and stupid, but it was true. Truer than he'd let himself believe before he said it aloud, but now that the emotions had been released there was no bottling them up: he held his breath and bit his lip and closed his watery eyes in an effort to subdue the way his chest ached with every step he took; it didn't work.

Viktor was pretty sure which music was next, and what program he'd skate to it. Every song so far had been in the same order he heard bards sing them in, so he assumed the pattern would continue. The next one was the third song in the first movement: _On Love: Eros._ The question was, could he still perform for Yuuri after he said something so stupid? Yuuri probably hated him now. Or at the very least thought he was an idiot, which frankly, he was. It was a program about love, but all love had brought Viktor so far was pain.

Viktor crossed a sizable bridge, not elegant in its design so much as in its sturdiness and length. He tried to think about that. He tried to admire the scenery. He tried to think about skating. It didn't work as well as he hoped, but it was alright. Try and think about what _Eros_ means other than love, other than Yuuri. It's sexy, and it's confident. It's pure, selfish lust. Yeah, he could do that. Skaters are actors, after all, or at least he always had been. He had people falling all over him whenever he skated to this song. _Just project that same confidence and you'll be fine._

Viktor took a deep breath as he approached the ice, which was tucked neatly onto a lake which was itself on an island. 

When he finally stood before the ice and began to set his stuff down to lace up his skates, Viktor was startled by a loud metal clash followed immediately by ice crunching under blades. Confused and somewhat startled, he looked upward to see a young boy with silvery hair hanging down around his head and across the right half of his face.

"Who are you?" Viktor asked, suprised at how much shock lingered in his voice.

The boy ignored him. He kept practicing a routine that was most definitely to _Eros_ , but totally different from Viktor's. He put a step sequence where Viktor had put a spin, and his jumps had more rotation and less height. And after he had analyzed the boy's skating for a short time, he finally jumped back into the reality of _wait another minute here why is this boy here and why is he skating_.

" _What's your name?!"_ Viktor shouted out at the boy, leaning forward and cupping his hands over his mouth, sure that he must have heard him this time.

"If I tell you, will you get out of my hair?" the boy asked, his voice spilling over with anger. He skated closer to Viktor and the older man noticed how willowy this boy was. He wore black clothing so skin-tight it looked like a part of him. It seemed to be all one piece, too, and it was impossible the boy hadn't sewn it himself. 

"Sure."

"My name is Victor. Now you, so we're even." Victor skated further towards Viktor, and stopped just before the edge of the ice, propping a hand on his hip.

"Viktor. Pleasure to meet you." Viktor gave a small smirk. He glanced out over the ice and at the door that had revealed itself. The Watching Eye was staring off into space, which made Viktor quite happy.

"You've gotta be kidding me, old man," Victor spat, sneering and snarling all at once. "I'm the only Victor."

"I could have said the same to you, and arguably, since I'm older, I was the original." Viktor relished in the tiger-like growl that came from the boy's throat in response, seething out hatred like venom from between clenched teeth. "We're going to get very confused since we're both named Viktor, now, so how about we call you... Yuri?" He pulled a name that would befit a boy like this had he grown up in Viktor's home village. The name meant "fiesty", and he figured that fit.

"No, old man. I'm Victor. You don't get birthright claim over the name, capiche? And if you desperately need to call me something else, you can try Yurio."

"Alright, Yurio," Viktor said with such sickening sweetness it made the boy hiss. "So who gets to skate for the prince?"

"I do. I got on the ice first. Duh." He flipped his silver hair from his eye and fished the blue scrunchie off his wrist to tie it up. His eyes were violently green, flickering slightly like emerald flames.

Viktor had laced his skates in the blink of an eye and was already standing before Yurio, towering over the boy of perhaps sixteen. Viktor was around two meters tall, Yurio stood shy of one and a half. "I don't think so. The prince knows me personally. He wants me to save him." It was a stretch, and Viktor felt a pang of heartache just thinking about Yuuri, but the prince should be watching him skate momentarily and he'd rather save Yuuri with a broken heart than leave the prince's fate to this boy.

"I don't believe that in the slightest."

"Oh really? That glowing orb you have, I have some as well, and Yuuri talked to me through it."

Yurio looked like he was considering the possibility. And then all of a sudden, he stared straight into the Watching Eye and shoved his skate blades into each other with such force Viktor thought they would shatter. The door got halfway through its speech before Yurio cut it off:

"Hey! Princey! I know you're watching! Cut the crap and listen to me!"

_This boy is definitely not going to be the one to save Yuuri. Not that he isn't capable. I just won't let him._

The Eye turned towards Yurio, looking somewhat confused though it had no eyebrow. The low hum of the door's voice, or more properly, Yuuri's voice through the door, said, "Yes?"

"Let us both skate this program here. Whoever does better gets whatever's in that chest." He gestured to the doors. "Deal?"

The Eye looked contemplative for a moment, then settling with resolve. "Deal. ...Viktor goes first."

"We're both named Viktor!" they exclaimed in unison.

The door made a low sound not unlike a suppressed giggle. "You, young one, you first."

Yurio grinned sharply, and Viktor took his place off the side of the ice. Yurio clicked his blades together again, and this time, the music started. The low guitar, drums, then a moment of silence as Yurio flew through the air in a huge fly. He landed on the downbeat perfectly, spinning in an elegant back camel spin, then turning over to grab his blade. Just as the sunlight hit that blade did Viktor notice that his blades were not the silver color of his own, but a shade of pale gold. _Hair of silver, blades of gold..._

He moved from that spin into a front pancake, pushing his arms through and grabbing his skate. How he smoothly transitioned out of that and into a crossfoot Viktor didn't quite see, the boy was spinning too fast, and before Viktor could even blink, he was out of the spin and into a series of fast back crossovers and elegant turns into a double lutz just as the flute came into the music.

Crossovers, elegant and with beautiful extension, into a spiral that Viktor could have sworn was further over than straight up and down. This boy was flexible. Viktor wondered what on earth he did that made him so good at this.

Another jump, elegantly executed, and a step sequence. It was very clear the boy was getting tired as the music sped up, his form became rigid as it struggled to not be sloppy. A sequence of rockers and loops followed by one final spin wherein the boy arched his tired body into a teardrop shape, holding his skate above his head in both hands, then a stop and an ending pose with one hand on his thigh and the other behind his neck. The flush across his cheeks and his hard breathing made that pose look so much more appropriate.

Viktor wasn't one for nerves, and he really wasn't nervous about skating a clean program. He was nervous about performing it for Yuuri, a program about love when his was so probably unrequited. _No, don't think about Yuuri,_ Viktor told himself as he skated to the center of the ice sheet, _think about Eros. Confidence. Make it as sexy as possible._

 

 

Yuuri watched Viktor move across the ice and take his starting pose. His arms were held slightly outwards from his body, fingers splayed, one toe in the ice and hip popped. He took a few breaths to steady himself - something Yuuri had never seen him do before a program before - and clicked his blades together almost inaudibly. _Maybe he's nervous,_ Yuuri thought to himself. _That's... plausible right?_ Even though Yuuri had only known Viktor for a very short time, he figured Viktor wouldn't be the sort of person to get nervous.

The first strums of the guitar came and Viktor folded his arms up over his head, arching his back into a pivot. The most fluid possible motion, made more so by the smoothness of the ice and the grace of his skating. He did a simple edge where Victor...Yurio? had been doing a flying camel, but he stared straight into the Eye which pierced right into Yuuri's gaze, millions of kilometers away, and _winked._

If Yuuri hadn't been in a semi-magical state of stasis wherein his consciousness was preserved no matter what, he would have fainted. He knew the theme of the program and the music was _Eros_ , but _goddess above you're not supposed to make it that sexy._

He couldn't take his eyes off him.

Ever since Viktor had made that confession, Yuuri was waiting with bated breath (metaphorically, he didn't actually breathe within his magic stasis pod) to see him skate the next program. And now he finally got to see it.

Immediately he turned into turns and steps, his arms gesturing towards both himself and Yuuri as if beckoning, _come closer._ A twizzle, crossovers and brackets. He ran a hand from the tip of his chin down his chest, _touch me._ A counter into a spreadeagle pulling around a tight curve; Viktor ran his hands sensually down his sides. _Hold me._

Yuuri didn't even see the back camel spin coming, but there it was, Viktor's chest turned skyward and his arms at his sides. Then a cannonball, so low to the ice it looked like his heel pick would catch the ice any moment. How he managed to pull that into a layback Yuuri didn't know, but it was amazing and Viktor was amazing. Yuuri wondered how such a man could so rapidly fall for _him_. 

Moments later the spin ended, and there were more steps, quick turns which Yuuri's mind told him were choctaws although all his heart could do was stare in awe. Then a flying sit into a tuck, one hand delicately resting just in front of his forehead, the other holding the heel of his skate. Then suddenly, so quickly but with such grace, crossovers into a beautiful outside spreadeagle and a double axel. Even as Viktor pulled in for the jump, he looked graceful, like he was embracing a lover. For the briefest of moments, Yuuri placed himself in Viktor's arms.

Those arms moved so delicately yet with such confidence over his body, and Yuuri only found himself falling further with each clean jump Viktor landed. The program ended with a building of octaves, and Viktor turned to his sides, extending his arms like pushing away imaginary suitors. Then, panting and out of breath, he curled his arms around himself, fingertips just brushing his sides, like possessively keeping a lover all to himself, staring at Yuuri with a piercing gaze.

Needless to say he already knew the winner. Yurio's program had been flawless, but there hadn't been that spark. Yuuri could only pretend that his verdict on the subject was in any way impartial.

Both Viktors skated into the center of the ice, and seeing two silver-haired skaters there at once gave Yuuri a pang of centuries-old memory. He shook it off enough to speak to them and as soon as he willed it, the two heard his thoughts.

_"The elder is the victor,"_ Yuuri said, epiphysically smirking at his pun. 

 

Yurio looked so fucking pissed. That was all Viktor could think of when the doors opened and, despite shooting poison daggers from his eyes, the boy didn't move to stop him. He skated along the icy path and opened the chest, finding yet another orb, this time glowing a bright red, which had been the color of the runes surrounding the doorway. 

Viktor wondered if Yuuri liked his performance.

The second item in the chest was very shiny, and once he fished them out of the chest (with help from his newly acquired orb for a torch), he understood why. They were a pair of golden skate blades. Just like the kind Yurio had, only seemingly his size. Only issue: Viktor had absolutely no idea how skate blades were fastened to the boots or even, before just now, that they came off. 

"Hey Yurio?" Viktor asked.

To his surprise, the boy was not only still there (probably moping as he removed his skates) but responsive. "Yeah?" He did sound really, really angry, but he did say something.

"How did you put your gold blades on your skates? I, um, have absolutely no clue how..." Viktor's mouth formed an embarrassed heart as he stepped out of the room and skated back towards Yurio.

Yurio sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "I can do it for you, if you promise me something."

"Sure!" Viktor exclaimed as he unlaced his skates. "What is it?"

"Coach me. Show me how you performed so well to that piece. And how I can do better for the next one. We both know what it is."

_That wasn't at all what I expected._ "I have nothing in particular against that plan," Viktor said, pulling off his second skate, "but we can't both save the prince."

Viktor was surprised when Yurio burst into a gale of laughter. "You think I want to save that pig who got us into this mess in the first place. That's precious. I have my own goal, I know what I have to do to get there, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you. You help me, I help you, that's fine. But then we leave and never see each other again."

_Well, at least that settles it._ "Sounds fine to me. When do you want to start?"

"As soon as we eat something," Yurio replied, walking over to the older skater. "There's a village just over that hill. I've never been there but I'm sure it has food."

"I was just planning on going fishing. I don't like going to villages unless I need something I can't make myself," he gestured to his triangular straw hat as he put it on, "or I need to learn where something is."

"Why? Village food is way better than stupid deer meat."

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Yurio. Have you ever heard of the Onyx Cobras?" 

The puzzled look on the boy's face told Viktor that he hadn't.

"The Onyx Cobras are a clan of Shadow followers, one of many. They have weird powers like shadow melding, bestowed upon them by the Shadow itself. They usually come out when the hour is late, but they could be anywhere. They actively stay away from any royal magic, so these ice sheets are free of them, but anywhere else you have to be careful. I haven't met any yet, but I've seen a few." Viktor shivered when he thought of the seemingly-normal travellers who melded into the shadowed side of a building when they thought nobody was looking.

"And this is interesting to me why?" asked Yurio, who obviously wanted to the tl;dr version.

"Your hair."

"What on earth about it?"

"The prophecies talk about a hero with silver hair. The Onyx Cobras will be looking for someone who fits that bill. That's why I have a hat."

"...Oh." Yurio raked his hands through his hair, first absently and then pulling it up into a ponytail. "Well then. Got a spare hat, old man?"

"I do, but it's too warm for this climate. Plus you'd have to give me something in return for it." Viktor gave an infuriating smirk.

"No. Forget it. I'll find some food myself." Yurio let his hair down, stood up, pulled out a bow, and strapped his quiver around his waist. He hoisted a backpack that looked big enough to topple him onto his back and walked away in a motion like stomping, though he made hardly any sound. "We'll meet back here tomorrow!" he shouted behind him, not waiting for Viktor's confirmation.

 

"Well that was a nice distraction," Viktor mumbled to himself as he pulled his things onto his back and walked toward the lake. _I skated well for Yuuri... he told me I won... that's probably just the program though. I'm a good skater and a good performer._

He walked to the lake, pulled out his fishing pole and sat cross-legged. It was midday, the weather pleasant if slightly too hot. Viktor numbly rolled his sleeves up. No thoughts rolled through his mind, just a sense of emptiness. Yurio came up to him.

"I've decided," he said, carrying a freshly-killed deer over his shoulder. "Give me your hat. I'll give you something."

"Depends on what you'll give me," Viktor said with a smile.

"Clothes. Made of a material from my home village, it's called spandex. It's stretchy and will fit you perfectly."

"Seems a bit much in exchange for a knit cap," Viktor noted, "Any particular reason you're being nice to me?"

"Shut up and take it, old man," Yurio grumbled. He set down his kill and his backpack, came over to wash the blood from his hands in the lake, and then fished around for a moment before throwing two pieces of crumpled clothing at Viktor.

The older man replied by pulling his woolen cap from his own pack and tossing it over the deer at Yurio just as the younger was pulling out his skinning knife. Yurio pulled the cap over his head and stuffed his bangs into it, then took his knife and swiftly made one long incision up the belly of the beast.

Viktor tried not to watch. Not that he disliked watching, he actually found it very interesting, he just had to pay attention to his line, which, as if on command, gave him a little tug. He let out some line, and the fish on the end responded with a much harder pull as Viktor began to reel in.

 

Viktor had a small pile of catches when Yurio finished dressing his doe, and they set up a fire together on the small gravel beach after Viktor felled a small tree with his handy axe for firewood. They set up their meat on a small slab above the fire, and waited.

Yurio mumbled something.

"Huh? Yurio, did you say something?"

"I said," Yurio almost shouted, his voice seeming to have only two settings, too quiet and too loud, "Thank you." Then he quieted down again, but fortunately this time he was still audible. "For telling me about the hair thing. I owe you one."

"You're welcome, Yurio." Then Viktor saw a figure approaching from behind them that definitely hadn't been there before. It just seemed to appear from the shadows of the trees that stood tall by the side of the lake. He then deliberately fixed his eyes back on the boy sitting across the fire from him. "Oh, and by the way, I realize I never told you my name."

"Huh? You-"

"It's Shura."

Realization dawned in Yurio's eyes as he made a quick glance that was meant to gesture over his shoulder. Viktor gave a barely visible nod in response. "Ah, you're right, I didn't even notice. Thanks, Shura." He gave a smile that looked too sweet for his normally-scowling face just as the figure approached the two of them.

"Excuse me?" the person said from just behind Yurio. Their voice was low yet quite androgynous. They wore a dark hood which covered their torso and arms, the little skin showing on the bottom of their face was so pale it looked as if it had never seen the light of day. Under the hood were baggy black pants gathered at the ankles, and shoes fitted so tightly to their feet they looked more like socks.

"Yes?" Both Viktors said in near-sync. 

"I was wondering if I might join you. I have some food to cook as well, but I have no fire to cook it over."

"There doesn't seem to be room right now," Viktor said, gesturing to the dark slab covered with sizzling deer meat and fish, "But you're welcome to sit with us and cook your meat after we're done."

For a brief instant, before their guest sat down, Yurio shot Viktor a _what the fuck are you doing_ glance, but before Viktor could reply in any way the person sat by the fire to his right. They sat in a slightly oriental style, feet tucked under them, which reminded Viktor of how the royal family was shown in paintings. 

"So, what are your names?"

Without a hint of hesitation, they replied with their nicknames: "Yurio." "Shura."

"Yours?" Yurio asked a moment after.

"Onyx," the person said. 

_Suspicions confirmed,_ Viktor thought, and he was sure Yurio thought something similar as the boy gave him a small nod. 

"Nice to meet you, Onyx," Yurio replied as if nothing had happened. "So, are you from that village?"

"No, unfortunately, though I was just there and it is a pleasant locale." Onyx made an expression like a smile under their hood, though their lips were a little too thin and their mouth spread out instead of up. "I'm a traveller. I presume you two are as well?"

"Yes," Yurio said. "We come from not too far away." He seemed like he was forcing an accent more like Viktor's, which to be fair wasn't too far from his native one. Only Viktor seemed to notice the difference at all. 

"Why do you travel?" Onyx asked, leaning slightly towards the fire. It seemed to darken slightly with their presence.

Yurio looked helplessly at Viktor for a moment, but the latter was more than happy to save them: "We're looking to hear the local legends. We're storytellers of sorts, looking to draw inspiration from them." 

Yurio looked very pleased with this reply, nodding. "What about you, Onyx?" 

"I paint, actually." Was Viktor imagining things, or did the supernatural genderless probably-Shadow-follower just sound sheepish? They reached under their cloak and pulled out several paintbrushes, a few stained with pigment, as proof. "And I deliver messages. Which reminds me. You said your name was... Shura?" The being gestured at Viktor with an arm covered in a skin-tight material that looked like it would stick to you should you touch it.

Viktor nodded and the being pulled an envelope from a different portion of the area hidden under their cloak, holding it out to him between two fingers. Viktor took it numbly and Yurio had the most confused look on his face as he opened it. There were two pieces of parchment inside, one a tiny slip that simply said "read this only when alone", the other longer and letter-folded.

"Excuse me," Viktor said and showed the other two people the slip. They both nodded, to Viktor's surprise, and he walked away. He looked over his shoulder several times, as furtively as he could manage to do it, but Onyx wasn't following him or even looking at him. They seemed to be striking up a conversation with Yurio, helping the boy turn over some of the food.

Viktor was still _very_ wary about Onyx, or whatever their name actually was, but now he was more confused than anything else. His name did share a huge similarity with the Onyx Cobras, and he did seem to pop out of nowhere just like Viktor had seen the Shadow followers do, but he also seemed very friendly. That could be a guise, but something in Viktor told him there was more to it.

As soon as he felt safe doing so he pulled the letter-folded parchment from its envelope and unfolded it gently. It smelled of freshly baked bread.

* * *

_Viktor,_

Viktor paused and looked up. Between the letter's smell, the messenger recognizing him as Shura, and this knowledge of his real name, this letter could only be from one person. He continued reading:

_I did as you asked and looked into information concerning unmelting ice. There seem to be many of these, mostly referred to as "trials", in ancient legends. I believe these are relevant to your quest._

_I found an additional piece of relevant information: there are sixteen Soul Orbs, obsidian spheres of unknown origin and with magical properties which are likely hidden somewhere in the vicinity of each trial. Prince Yuuri's stasis pod is a modified version of a giant Soul Orb, and it channels his life-force towards whatever end he chooses. I hope you find these and that they are useful to you._

_There are also, in all likelihood, magical items hidden around the trials. I am presently unsure of the form they might take, but I am sure there are sixteen of them, just like the trials themselves and like the Soul Orbs._

_One last thing you may wish to understand before I leave off. Prince Yuuri has many watching-places, not just the trials. It is rumored that should you see a flower with no leaves and glowing blue petals, the Prince may see you through it when it blooms. I am reasonably sure you will want to communicate with the one you wish to save, and His Highness may be able to help you with your quest._

_Should you wish to write me back, leave your envelope in a sunny place and one of my messengers will come collect it._

_Lilia Baranovskaya_

* * *

Viktor folded up the letter and placed it back in its envelope. He walked back over to the fire to see Onyx and Yurio pulling food off the slab and onto small pieces of wood with sticks and knives, Onyx putting diced pieces of some dark meat onto it.

"You got food for me?" Viktor asked, grinning. 

"Of course we do," Yurio said, a slight bit of his usual scowl coming back. He shoved a piece of wood covered with cooked fish fillet and venison at Viktor before returning to his own meal.

"Thank you so much, Yurio," Viktor said as he dug into the food. "Mm! Vkusno!"

"Indeed," Onyx agreed, meat juice dripping down their gloved hands and forearms. "I can't thank you two enough for letting me share your food. You must have worked really hard at getting this, it's definitely not village food." They gestured to their own cubed meat which sat sizzling above the fire with something like a smirk.

"Hey, Onyx?" Viktor switched to his village's native tongue and lowered his voice. "Do you understand me?"

Onyx nodded, to Viktor's- not quite surprise, but bemusement at least. He continued in that language and tone: "Can I give you a letter to send to Lilia?"

"You can," Onyx replied, tone equally hushed though it didn't seem to help as Yurio was eyeing the two suspiciously anyway, "If I can stick around that long. I'm not sure whether that's possible."

"Ah, okay then," Viktor said, returning to Common. "I understand."

"This regards that stupid letter, doesn't it." It wasn't a question, and both Viktor and Onyx knew that.

"Yes," Viktor replied anyway.

"So lemme get this straight," Yurio said, pointing accusingly at Onyx. "You're not a Shadow follower."

"No," Onyx chuckled out, "Though I'm somewhat glad I pass for one. Yields some protection. I am a servant of the royal line. I came to deliver a letter to Shura, and, as I said earlier, to paint!" Their voice livened significantly toward the end of that sentence. 

"Oh, well that's good," Yurio said, sounding honestly more annoyed than relieved.

* * *

 

They sat in silence for the remainder of the time that Onyx's food cooked, which wasn't very long since it wasn't very good. The royal servant took good time to remind them of this fact as they ate it begrudgingly. Then they pulled a blank canvas and an easel from their back and paintbrushes from their pocket and began to paint the water. 

That ended up taking only slightly longer a time than it took the two Viktors to dismantle their cooking apparatus and wolf down the last of their meals, and so the letter Viktor ended up sending back to Lilia was hastily written, but the messenger did take it right then, and that made the silver-haired hero happy.

The letter, when it was finally written and folded, read thus:

_Lilia,_

_Thank you so much for your letter. I hope you are faring well. I met your messenger, Onyx, and they are a very nice person, and although somewhat mysterious, they are very good with a paintbrush. I had the pleasure to behold one of their paintings, and in my personal opinion it belongs in a museum. I hope you frame it!_

_I thank you for your information regarding the trials. I have already communicated with Prince Yuuri once via one of my Soul Orbs (of which I presently have two, obtained as you presumed from the two trials I passed), and though he could not talk for long he helped me greatly and we became friends._

_I shall seek out these blue flowers, and I thank you for informing me of them. I believe communicating with Yuuri will be important to my future._

_I have a few questions I'd appreciate your research into. Firstly, I have had several seemingly prophetic dreams, one concerning waking the Prince from stasis and one concerning completing the pattern upon the Veil which seals the Shadow. Does any legend speak of this?_

_I may speak in great folly, but have you ever heard in any legend about the Prince and the hero falling in love? If not forgive the question._

_Thank you so much for your continued help. I hope to hear back from you soon (send a less ominous messenger next time?)._

_Viktor_

* * *

When Lilia received the letter, she immediately set about doing the things he requested, but wondered in the back of her mind why there were stains on the parchment around the word "friends".


	4. Trial 4: I am Eros and Eros is Me? Yurio's Tragic Backstory!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio finds his Eros, with Viktor's instruction, and a tentative friendship develops.
> 
>  
> 
> Excerpt:
> 
> "I got it from Chris."
> 
> "Chris? Chris who?"
> 
> "Christophe Giacometti. We... worked together. In a circus. For a long time. We were never really friends, I mostly yelled at him and he mostly tried to grope me, but I did learn a lot from him, if from a distance most of the time."
> 
> "What prompted you to work in a circus? With someone like Christophe?"
> 
> "It's a long story."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long time since I last did any of this! Not because I didn't have the chapter finished, it's actually been sitting in my master-document for this fic all alone for a week or so. I just needed to edit, which I hate, and post it here, which is not at all unpleasant, I'm just lazy :P

The next day, Viktor woke to the sunrise. The light shone across the water in front of them and through the forest behind. They'd fallen asleep on the ground around the fire after Onyx had left the previous day (the messenger had said their goodbyes, and when the sun began to set, pouring light towards the small group and making the other two shade their eyes, they had simply vanished into the sunlight).

Viktor was packing his things to leave when he happened back upon those pieces of "spandex" clothing he'd been gifted. He figured he might as well try them on, at least, and glanced about a moment before stripping. He pulled the trousers on first, very surprised with how well they fit. Once he managed to get them on (he was afraid he'd rip them at first for how hard they were to pull up his legs) they fit his body like a glove. He could move so elegantly in them, with no resistance. He put on the shirt, and after a little fiddling with finding the bottom of the shirt so he could pull it down across his chest once it was over his head, it fit similarly. It hugged his muscular curves, giving a slight bit of compression which honestly felt nice. The sleeves came down to the halfway point on his biceps and had some interestingly-placed seams. Perhaps sewing spandex had to be done differently? It wouldn't surprise Viktor, though he was no seamster.

He was about to slip his boots back on and leave when Yurio finally woke, rising like the dead. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and sat up groggily, glaring over at Viktor. "Where you going," he managed to grumble out.

"I'm leaving to find the next trial," Viktor replied, hoisting his pack over his shoulder.

Yurio gave him a look as if the older man had shot his puppy. "You said you were going to train me, dumbass!"

And then it dawned on Viktor. "Oh, I did say I was going to do that, didn't I?" He gave a small smile which obviously infuriated Yurio, though this time he hadn't intended it to. "Let's go to the rink now, then. I'll teach you how to perform."

 

The two Viktors were at the ice with their skates laced up before either could say "Eros". They stood in center ice, right in front of the icy path to the open doors, about a meter apart.

"This may be difficult for you to understand, since you're so young," Viktor mused, finger stroking his stubbled chin, doing a few little turns as a fidget.

"Hasn't stopped me before." Yurio glared up at Viktor. "Try me."

"Whenever you perform a piece, you have to find the part of you that is the music. I don't know what part of you is Eros, since you're still a boy."

"I don't know either. How do I find it?"

"It can be anything. It can be a story. The story I craft to _Eros_ involves a temptress and a playboy. But it could also be a memory, like when a girl told you she loved you."

Yurio shot him another glare, but this one was much more half-hearted. He was obviously thinking about this. He mumbled something like "okay" and skated away.

Viktor watched the boy skate in little circles which developed into a sort of distracted practicing of his version of _Eros,_ which developed into a less distracted practicing, which turned into runthrough after runthrough, frequently stopping halfway through to shake his head and start over, either from the start of that section or, more commonly, from the beginning. 

There was definitely more emotion in this one, that was for certain. It wasn't what one would traditionally associate with this song, but it did seem to fit. The only problem was it didn't seem characteristic of Yurio. It seemed borrowed from someone else. It did work with Yurio's choreography, but then it occurred to Viktor that perhaps he'd taken that choreography as well from another source. _That fits,_ Viktor thought to himself from the log by the ice, _but if it's not Yurio's, who's is it? I might be able to figure that out if I knew more about him, but all I can figure without that is this comes from someone more experienced in sexuality than this boy._

"Hey, old man! You listening?" Yurio yelled at him from halfway across the ice.

"Yes, Yurio?" Viktor looked up from his musings to see Yurio in his starting pose.

"You think the music will start if I strike my blades again?"

"Don't see why not. You can't know if you don't try, though. Go ahead, I'm watching." 

And with that remark, Yurio tapped his blades together, and to both of their intrigue, the music did start again. This time, he stepped right out of his starting pose and into a spreadeagle, around a tight curve, running his hands up the backs of his thighs. And then the same spin entrance, beautiful flying camel, grabbing his skate blade. On the crossovers into the double lutz Viktor now knew was upcoming, he dragged his right hand down his jawline and neck. He had his arms in a similar position to Viktor's ending pose during his jump, and exited like he was pulling away from an embrace. His arms and hands were strong, sharp, and poised, like the blades on his skates during his crossovers, then fluttered out gracefully into the spiral.

_He has found an Eros,_ Viktor thought as he watched Yurio's double flip, _Not his Eros, but it's better than having none at all. I have previously had to reach out to others to find things in the music that weren't a part of me. I just hope he doesn't continue to use this copout when the theme of the program is, in fact, a part of him._

Yurio finished the step sequence and finished his rendition. He held that ending pose, flushed and panting, for a long moment. And then he was at Viktor's side, asking "How was it?"

"It was much better." Viktor glanced over at the boy sitting by his side. That black, long-sleeved, high-collared unitard, bottoms of the legs stretched over the boots of his skates. That silvery hair, falling haphazardly around his head and over his left eye. Those green eyes, only one visible, with that peculiar glint to them. Quite an enigma. "If I may, where did you get that emotion? What part of you did you show in that song?"

Yurio was silent for a good bit of time after that. And then he mumbled something, with something in his tone, like remorse? Wistfulness? It sounded so odd off Yurio's tongue.

"What?"

"I said, I got it from Chris."

"Chris? Chris who?"

"Christophe Giacometti. We... worked together. In a circus. For a long time. We were never really friends, I mostly yelled at him and he mostly tried to grope me, but I did learn a lot from him, if from a distance most of the time."

_Christophe? As in, the pole dancer? I... see the similarity, now... but that was the most unexpected of responses..._ "What prompted you to work in a circus? With someone like Christophe?"

"It's a long story," Yurio said.

"I have time," Viktor replied, patting the spot on the log beside him. Yurio sat.

" _I had to make money_ was the long and short of it. My father was a dancer, he taught me some things, but there wasn't enough business for dancers in my hometown, so when the circus came to town I auditioned. But, I didn't get in... that was my first encounter with Chris. He thought I was great. I got in anyway, thanks to him. And for a few weeks he trained me himself. I had my own act soon after that, with over-dramatic ballet stunts and such. I strapped kitchen knives to my ballet shoes and did a dance _en pointe_ on the knife tips one time. On top of a piano which was if I remember correctly at least partially on fire. Lots of things were unnecessarily set on fire honestly. It mostly wasn't very hard, but the sort of thing where if you did make a mistake you'd get royally fucked up."

"Why did you need to do all that?" Viktor asked through chuckles.

"You have to be at least Level 4 Friend to unlock my Tragic Backstory, old man," Yurio said dryly.

"Then let me get there. Travel with me, Yurio? We can go to the next trial together!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Now that I'm back (albeit tentatively, I do believe I said before that this story updates "approximately whenever I feel like it"), how'd y'all like that chapter? Want to see more Yurio? You like where Chris factored into this? TELL ME :D :D PLEASE


	5. Trial 5: Cures for Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles: "Last Song, First Movement: Agape!", or, "Yurio Retires?!"
> 
> Introducing the Nishigori triplets (or one of them anyway, though the others are mentioned). Yurio goes barhopping (sorta) and Viktor gets over his broken heart (kinda).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been awhile for this fic, so sorry. THIS FIC IS NOT ABANDONED. I don't intend to abandon it ever. It may be awhile between chapters (for reasons see notes on ch.1), like it has for this one, but I'll finish a fic for once in my life damn it!!

Viktor and Yurio made their way towards the fourth of the sixteen trials. Viktor was shocked with their progress. He'd made his way towards the first mountain trial. He was a quarter of the way through. He though about Yuuri's reminder for him to hurry. _I'm coming, Your Highness. To save you and your kingdom, if nothing else._

However, this was going to be harder than he anticipated (primarily because he didn't anticipate much of anything). Though the peak wasn't that high nor that steep, it was still very cold. He was very glad he'd brought that warm fur coat, but regretted yet again that he hadn't brought more than one pair of trousers. Layering his spandex pants under his normal ones didn't help much. He felt the chill seeping through the comparatively thin fabric with each passing wind.

At least he had Yurio to complain with.

It wasn't steep enough to require specific mountain-climbing gear, ropes and harnesses and picks, but it also wasn't a leisurely stroll. It was a 45° slope at the least most of the way, and for significant distances he had to crawl. It probably took him an hour to travel a few hundred meters. 

He'd started his trek uphill around midmorning and didn't find the ice sheet until nearly sundown. He wouldn't have noticed it was even what he was looking for if not for the eerie green glow off its surface. 

"Hey, Yurio," Viktor said, doubling over and a bit out of breath, "I think we found it." He pointed at the sheet of ice with a sizable rock by its side.

"It's about fucking time," Yurio grumbled. He sat on the rock and laced his skates up, and Viktor sat down next to him. They practiced for a short while, no noises other than the whistle of the wind and the crunch of ice. 

Viktor ran through his usual warm-up and noticed it was very warm, around the same temperature as the previous ice sheets if he had to guess. This was pretty powerful magic, to cover this much space and keep out such rampant cold. Did a leyline run through here?

The next song was _On Love: Agape_ , and Viktor really wan't feeling the _unconditional love_ thing today. More the _I'm freezing and hungry and in pain and I really hate mountains_ thing. He tried to think about what he always thought about while skating this program, when he used to practice it at home: his papa, his adoptive father, the person who taught him and supported him in skating and fishing, Yakov. He thought about when Yakov told him about how to do the basic jumps, and what things were called. He remembered when Yakov took him out on the lake when he was no more than five years old with a drop-line fishing rod, nothing more than a hook tied to a line tied to a stick. 

Yet somehow that wasn't enough. He was still frustrated. There was a weight sitting at the bottom of his ribcage, a fire in his throat. He was going through the motions of the program, getting frustrated with himself when he flubbed the double axel and pulling his ponytail apart raking his fingers through his fringe. Yurio skated over when he did that so much his scrunchie fell out and he had to lean over to pick it up, cursing under his breath in his native tongue.

"Hey," Yurio said, voice barely hinting at concern. "What're you doing?" _Are you ok_ lingered in the air.

"Practicing," Viktor replied, voice harsher than he wanted it to be. The flame in his chest flared as he spoke.

"You look angry," Yurio said.

"Oh really," Viktor said, getting in shorter man's space, looking down on him.

"Yes, and I'm fucking worried about you, asshole."

"How sweet."

"You're skating like a madman, you're gonna run me over."

"Ah."

There was a silence, both of them glancing warily at each other. Yurio looked upset, confused, somewhat frustrated, but primarily worried. And not just because he thought Viktor would run him over.

"Why are you so upset?"

"I've had a... long few days." Viktor took a few perambulating strokes in a random direction and Yurio followed suit. The silver-haired man replaced his scrunchie as they skated in a vague loop around the ice. "I talked to Yuuri, but I messed up and I don't know if he still wants to talk to me. Then I met you, and then the whole Onyx incident happened, and then I climbed a mountain, andI'mjustreallystressedrightnow." Viktor reached a hand up to run his fingers through his fringe again but stopping himself midway, his hand hanging in midair for a long moment before falling again to his side.

"I understand," Yurio replied. "Really, actually, not in the way that people say it to mean _I sympathize_. What you're experiencing right now because of whatever you did with the prince, or your shitty week, I deal with every day. That _I feel angry as hell and I don't know why_ is my every minute."

"Let me guess: you have advice?" Viktor's tone was much less sharp now, but his words were no less so.

"I do, so stop being a prick for five seconds and listen to me."

_Listen to me._ That's what Yakov always said. Viktor almost never did, but that didn't stop old pops from saying it over and over, hoping he'd eventually pound it into his son's head.

He didn't bother with any kind of retort. He just nodded for Yurio to go on.

"Do this. Don't question me because I have no idea how it works and if you ask for an explanation I'll make up some BS. But it does work so just go with it, okay?"

Viktor nodded again, and Yurio moved his hand to his forehead, first two fingers on his glabella and the rest splayed out. As he exhaled he brought his hand down, slowly, in front of his chest, and looked at it for a long moment before inhaling again. "Like that. Inhale with your hand here," he replaced his arm to its earlier position, "and exhale when you bring it forward. If it helps, you can count to 10 as you bring it down."

Viktor did as he was asked. And then he did it again. "It's not working."

"You're not focusing. Count out loud."

Viktor stopped, and Yurio circled him once before stopping across from him. He focused straight in front of him as he brought his hand to is forehead as he took one deep breath. And just as he was exhaling, focusing on his fingers as they moved down, Yurio said, "And for what it's worth, just talk to the Prince. Whatever you said it can't be _that bad._ "

"I can't do that, Yurio," Viktor wanted to say. Wanted to say, but didn't. The words caught in his throat. _I've already assumed I've failed, without even trying. Since when do I do that? I didn't assume I'd fail when I started practicing on the lake at home. I didn't assume I'd fail when I took these skates to find the first trial. Why am I doing it now? Just because Yuuri is way out of my league doesn't mean I can't try. The worst he can say is no, and the worst that happens is I stay how I've already been._ "Okay," he said, out loud this time.

"Good. Calmer?"

"Y-yeah." _Thanks._ "Hey Yurio? Can I go first?"

"Sure. I..." Yurio cut himself off as he skated away.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." He reached the rock at the ice edge and sat down, eyes fixed on Viktor. "Go ahead."

 

Viktor clicked his blades together and hit his starting pose in the center of the ice, arms behind him, right toe in the ice, looking down.

_Sic mea vita est temporaria..._

He raised one arm, brought it down beside his face as he turned around. Then he bent down, arms behind him, then pulling them up in front of him, like a bird taking flight. A turn, so fluid it looked like he'd been moving backwards the whole time, cross roll into crossovers around two sharp curves, carving an S pattern into the ice. 

_cupit ardenter caritatem aeternam_

_credam, dabo, sperabo, honorabo_

_laborabo, gratias agam!_

He glided backwards for a beat, looking up at his hands and spread fingers, a gesture like a blooming flower. Then the flawless setup for an equally flawless double axel with brilliant height. The step sequence after that, turn after turn in a huge circle covering three-quarters of the ice, and a double salchow with one arm over his head. An edge and a butterfly into a flying sit spin, a few more steps and...

_I was supposed to do a double-single here..._ Viktor thought, _but... I think Yuuri would be more impressed if I-_

A triple toeloop followed by a double toeloop, the double only slightly underrotated. 

_Et denique aperiens fores occultas,_

_nobis, grandis et clara nosque curabit_

_nobis, grandis et clara nosque curabit_

Cross rolls and edges down the ice in a serpentine, body waving like grass in a breeze. Then down a diagonal into a chinese spiral, followed immediately by a double lutz right in the corner. He had to bend his knee so much to stick that landing on that hard of an edge he was worried he might fall. 

_magna magna, caritas_

_Ah! Audio vocem tuam!_

_Adest mi libertas!_

A stop in center ice, arms to his right side, followed by a pivot into a step sequence that covered the ice like a bass clef, and a double flip. 

_Mea vita amabit, caritatis pacem._

And then a repeat of the pattern: a stop into steps, but this time into edges and a combination spin, a back sit to a tuck, then up into a camel before grabbing his blade, body forming a teardrop shape. He shoved his toe into the ice just as the song ended, and laced his fingers together with his hands in front of his chest, bending over backwards as in a layback spin, shoving his hands skyward like he was wrenching his heart from his chest.

_Hanc felicitatem aeternam esse oro..._

 

Viktor skated over to Yurio and motioned for the boy to go ahead, but he simply shook his head. "Aren't you skating?"

"Not to this. I'm not doing these."

"Why not?"

"I'm just not, okay? Back off, old man. Get your goodies or whatever."

So Viktor attained another glowing orb, a light greenish color, and a small, icy blue colored piece of metal. He made a mental note to ask Yurio about it later, but for now, he had more pressing questions for the silver-haired boy.

"Why did you come if you didn't want to skate? And what were you practicing for before?"

Yurio grumbled.

"What is it?" Viktor asked. He skated over to the rock and began unlacing his skates.

"It sounds stupid to say it aloud," he admitted with a chuckle. "But there's no way not to say it, so I will." Yurio sat down next to Viktor, but made no motion towards his skates. "I care about you."

* * *

_The previous night, just past midnight..._

_Victor paced back and forth and back and forth in front of the campfire. He couldn't sleep, and he knew why, and it was eating at him. He'd tried his usual strategies for calming down, they didn't work. He knew what would help, but something was preventing his feet from moving._

_This is silly, he thought, and resolutely turned away. Turned away from the other Viktor and Onyx and the campfire. Turned towards the town on the other side of the small knoll, and walked to it._

_He found a tavern and walked inside, finding what seemed to be most of the town inside. Many were tipsy at the least, but the atmosphere was relatively quiet. A small corrale of young men were singing in the corner, surprisingly in tune despite the fact that they seemed pretty drunk and one had a hefty accent. Three young ladies in elegant dresses nursed glasses of wine nearby, and a dark-skinned bald man sat alone at the next table. At the bar, someone was writing a letter, an older couple were leaning on each other, and a girl who didn't look much younger than Victor himself fidgeted with a wooden puzzle toy over a fruity beer._

_He didn't even notice the barkeep approach. "Can I get you anything?" she asked._

_"Pick a beer, any beer, but make it light," Victor replied, and the barkeep nodded, making her way back to her bar to grab something. The boy made his way to the bar, sitting a stool away from the girl with the puzzle toy._

_"A little warm for a hat like that, isn't it," she said, turning to Victor. Her slanted eyes were chocolate brown and her short, dark hair was tied in a high ponytail with a pink band._

_"I suppose."_

_"What's your name?"_

_"Yurio." The barkeep came by and silently handed him a green bottle, dripping with melted ice and condensation, and he nodded in her direction. "Yours?"_

_"Loop." He didn't have time to think about the implications of a name like that; her eyes flickered up to his hat again, which momentarily made him anxious that a strand or two of his silver locks were slipping out. But her eyes returned to her drink, which she took a long sip of, and then to her toy._

_They spent the next few minutes nursing their drinks in silence. Victor wondered if it would be alright to ask this girl about the local legends, what she might know about them, and how to go about doing the asking. There was something dark in Loop's eyes as well, she kept glancing at him out of the corners of her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. If it hadn't been for his honed senses, he might not have noticed._

_He wanted to confront her about it, ask what she was looking at in some nonchalant way, but before he got the chance she finished her drink, leaned over and kissed him._

_Victor's mind went WHAT THE FUCK for a few moments before she stopped a moment to whisper in his ear, "I need to get you out of here. Pretend to be really into me, okay?"_

_So Victor pretended, and seemed to do pretty well, because he distinctly heard several people murmuring about "stupid kids" as they kissed into the adjacent building, which was perfectly empty._

_The instant the door was shut, Loop shoved him against a wall with remarkable force and scolded, "I can't believe you didn't notice people staring at us. I guess it's my fault, because I never talk to anyone besides my sisters, but still. Travellers like you are supposed to be good at this, eh? Now, tell me who you really are and what you're doing in my town."_

_"Who am I?! I have more questions about you! You have a skating name and you're the same race as the royal family and you ask about me?!"_

_"I don't have to hide the fact that I'm of noble blood, thank you. Nobody's going to come and KILL ME. I have no actual power. A silver-haired figure skater? YOU need to worry, and you're parading around in a wool hat like 'hey look I have something to hide'! Now I'm going to bet that your name is Viktor, isn't it?!"_

_"Yes," Victor said quietly. "Why are you yelling at me? What do you care for my safety?"_

_"I'm of noble blood, I said that. I was six years old when the palaces were set ablaze, the ice rinks melted, the nobles killed. My sisters and I barely made it out alive. My parents weren't so lucky."_

_"Oh look, sob story. Why is literally everyone an orphan?"_

_"War makes lots of orphans." Loop finally backed away from Victor and sat down on a nearby wooden chair. Victor found his own and sat near her. "You're destined to save the prince, yes?"_

_Victor was quiet. Her eyes were expectant, the question demanded a yes, but he couldn't give one. "I don't know."_

_"How can you possibly not know. The legends mention you BY NAME."_

_"There's more than one person with my name, okay?!" Victor"I met one yesterday. He's older than I am, by five years or so."_

_"He has the...?" Loop gestured at her head. Victor pulled his hat off in response. Silvery hair fell in waves around his face, ending around his shoulders._

_"Yes."_

_"Wow. Okay then."_

_"He passed a trial I didn't." Loop said nothing, so Victor continued. "He's abrasive. Quick to act, slow to learn. He gets heartbroken in an instant, and he's pining over the prince like the gayest gay to ever gay." Victor shuddered, raked a hand through his hair, let it fall over the right half of his face. "He perseveres like it's impossible not to. He works so hard, all the time, without ever complaining, without letting up or slowing down. And when life's hard on him, it doesn't hold him back, it makes him stronger. I hate the guy, but he's a worthy adversary, if you will."_

_"You know, I think I heard something somewhere about the hero having friends. To help him out, y'know?"_

_"You mean sidekicks."_

_"No, I don't. My sisters are my friends, they're not my sidekicks. We all helped each other escape our house when the darkness came. If we hadn't all worked together, we'd all be dead. Maybe you need to be his sister, per se."_

* * *

"I suppose you're like a sister to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages for characters in this fic, bc for a while I sorta wanted it to be canon compliant and then it didn't work out that way (feel free to skip, it's not too important to the story):  
> The Nishigori triplets are all 15  
> Onyx is 17 (they've been one of Lilia's servants pretty much their entire life in case you wanted backstory on them)  
> Yurio is 18 (his parents were taken when he was 6, he lived with his grandfather until 12, then was in the circus for 4 years before he asked Christophe about why he kept dying his hair, got told about the legends, and began skating)  
> Yuuri is (well ~500 tbh but in terms of how much is body has aged) 20  
> Christophe is 22  
> Viktor is 25  
> Yakov is ~60  
> Lilia is ~70


	6. The Katsuki Interlude: Yuuri On Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Yuuri backstory! Yuuri's birth, childhood, coming of age, finding out about the prophecy, meeting Lilia (not that Lilia, her some-number-of-greats-grandmother), marriage, etc. Fluff, angst, determination, and then more angst! Hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird chapter and it sat in my master file for a long time before I decided to post it; it's kind of a one-off with a different tone than the rest of it, but I put in a lot of easter eggs (that's probably the wrong word for it lol) relating to ideas I had. Back to the main story with Vitya and Yurio next time!
> 
> To everyone who left kudos: THANK YOU!  
> To everyone who commented: THANK YOU!!  
> To all my readers: THANK YOU!!!
> 
> This fic is not and continues to not be abandoned. Updates will be infrequent but they will happen. Leave critiques, comments, discourse, etc. in the comments!

Katsuki Mari knew she would never forget this day, and in fact she never would, though she was only five years old at the time. She was being let into her mother's boudoir, a room she came into almost daily to ask questions of the Queen about her future royal duties, but now it felt like a new place. The sheer lilac curtains were drawn back, by hand or by magic she couldn't tell, and her mother was laying in the bed, on top of the comforter; her father beside his wife, running his hands through her brownish hair fondly.

Mari tried to ignore the bandages that covered his forearms, and the servants carting away blood-soaked towels.

She didn't understand the intricacies of what had just happened, yet, but she knew that her mother had just had a baby, and she was very excited to see him. However, she did have manners, even at the young age of five, and she walked with measured leisure over to the side of the bed.

"Mother?" she asked, politely, as she'd been told to. "You asked to see me?"

Her father responded for her. "Yes, Mari, come, sit. This is your baby brother, Yuuri."

* * *

When Katsuki Yuuri was three years old, his parents first let him onto the ice. It was mid-spring, the birds chirping and the flowers blooming all around the edges of the artificial ice sheet. A pair of fine black leather ice skates were fashioned specifically for the young prince. Mari of course joined him, helped him onto the ice and helped him to march. His young mind picked up the intricacies of the new set of physics being handed to it very easily, and in minutes he was pushing off the sides of his blades in a meager attempt at stroking.

From that point on, for the rest of his life, Yuuri would pull on a pair of custom-made black figure skates and get on that same artificial ice sheet whenever he was nervous, or scared, and as Yuuri was scared a large percentage of his life, it became a running joke among everyone who lived in the royal palace that if one was ever in need of Katsuki Yuuri, one would find him on the ice.

* * *

When Katsuki Yuuri was twelve years old, he was quite the promising diplomat. He did exceedingly well in his studies; almost to passing age, he was fluent in five languages, was quite proficient both with the martial and the creative arts, and excelled at all matters arcane. He had an air about him that made one like him, that made one appreciate his mere presence, and he did absolutely nothing to dissuade that air. He was nice, charming, and quite handsome, having had suitors flocking to his step from the instant he made it clear he had not yet chosen one.

At first admirers of all genders appeared, then as Yuuri's preference for other boys was made quite apparent, it appeared only the handsomest of young boys were chosen. Yuuri, overwhelmed and quite anxious at the prospect of all these beautiful noblemen wanting to wed him, he made an announcement (via letter, of course; the boy had always been an amazingly persuasive writer). He would choose a suitor to marry at the celebration of his passing, otherwise known to all as his thirteenth birthday, which at that time was only a few weeks away. 

The suitors were obviously ecstatic, and they all showed up for the young prince's passing ceremony. It was tamer than that of his sister five years prior, for there was no circlet of future queenship to place upon his brow, but it was nonetheless spectacular. There was, as with all these things, a massive cake, and an awful lot of food, and a decent portion of the suitors (who had not, unlike Yuuri, been taught from a young age the art of eating mindfully) ate themselves sick on it. After all the ceremony, the Prince got up to address his suitors, and pulled a scroll from his robes.

The Prince had no sooner taken his breath to read the first word when, like out of some story, an elderly woman crashed through the doors to the throne room and with impressive speed hobbled towards Yuuri. His personal guards moved forward to protect him, but the woman stopped before she quite reached him. She held out a lightly glowing orb and in urgent tones exclaimed, "There is danger coming! There is danger coming!" Her voice was not hoarse, she did not sound old. She definitely lived in the town that surrounded the castle, but she was no noble. 

"Excuse me, madam, but what danger do you speak of?" Yuuri asked, voice calm. He was, of course, not calm, but he had very rarely been calm in the first place so he had a lot of practice pretending.

"We are all in great danger! There is an evil, a great evil, coming to this land! It will come, and it will destroy everything, and it will make the people of this land know to fear the night!"

"What is this evil?"

"The Shadow. It comes from behind the Veil, it intends to consume all that is light in the world! And that includes you, your highnesses!"

"What must be done," Yuuri said, now, not a question. His tone was steel and his eyes were dark ice.

"I do not know what challenges will be faced... I do not know what destruction the Shadow will cause. I saw... towns... cities... people... swallowed in darkness, silenced."

Yuuri turned and addressed his sister. "You know more of our military and of strategy than I. Please find out as much as you can about this Shadow, look through books, anything. I believe it can be stopped, find out how to do it." He turned to his parents, leaving his sister in shock. "Father, mother, please evacuate the city to the surrounding towns. Take as much light with you as possible."

"There is... a prophecy," said the old woman, feeling only now as if she is rude to interrupt, "concerning you, my Prince."

"Me?" Yuuri asked, suddenly sheepish again. He turned back to the old woman.

"Yes. The orb told me... a man would save you. A man with hair of silver and blades of gold... I know not what that entails. I saw you protected in a bubble of amber, I saw a sheet of ice, I saw sixteen glowing orbs."

"Understood. Thank you. Please, show me how I may speak to the other oracles around the city. I need to know as much about this prophecy as possible."

* * *

Katsuki Yuuri spent most of his fourteenth and fifteenth years living in the house of a young woman by the name of Lilia. She was around his age, and she ran a bakery in a small town a long ways from the royal palace. They shared a lot of interests, and they gradually became quite good friends. When Yuuri left again for the royal palace shortly after his sixteenth birthday, having consistently heard word of the total lack of chaotic destruction by one colossal inhuman monstrosity, he left behind a small network of royal guards and messengers for his friend.

* * *

Prophecies have a bad habit of coming true at the worst possible times. The country was on edge about this horrific event which every oracle for miles couldn't stop rambling about for three years, but nothing came of it for another four after that, when it was nearly forgotten, when Katsuki Yuuri had a loving husband by the name of Phillip, who in accordance with the root of his name adored horses. It was their neighing that first startled the pair, who were sitting on a couch in a room far off the main halls of the royal palace, reasonably close to the part of the courtyards that contained the stable.

"Sounds like your horses are in a tizzy over something," Yuuri said. It was meant as a joke and it came out that way, pretty much, but Phillip knew better than to assume his husband was really joking.

"Yeah, well, let me go check it out. Come on with me."

Yuuri followed him without question.

They walked briskly down the halls, Phillip practically dragging Yuuri, to the small door on the side of the palace that led most directly to the stables. When they arrived, not one or two but every single one of Phillip's five horses was neighing nervously at something off in the distance, imperceptible as yet to human senses. Phillip tried to calm them down as Yuuri nervously paced around. On perhaps his third trip around the stable he noticed something dark in the sky, somewhat like a raincloud but absolutely wrong in shape and size. It at first looked to Yuuri as a volcanic eruption, for it was too dark and shaped like a mushroom or umbrella pine.

However, then it occurred to Yuuri that the top of the cloud, the cap of the mushroom or the branches of the pine, was moving. It was not a top of a volcanic cloud, created by debris thrust upwards and then left unsupported as the blast pressure subsided, it was the trail of a mighty dark beast, for Yuuri could see its eyes as it circled around its path once more. And as its eyes met his, it suddenly changed course.

It was moving towards him. And it was moving very, very fast.

Anything massive enough to be seen from such a distance must be too massive to fly at such a speed, thought the schooled part of Yuuri's brain; it must simply be quite small but tricked by some mirage to look farther and thus larger than it really is. However, the panicked part of his brain which was already moving his legs in the direction of his husband, moving his lips and vocal chords in a shout to take horses and leave the city as fast as possible, thought otherwise.

As much as Yuuri had grown up hating the part of his brain that was constantly afraid, constantly panicking, now he thanked it with every thought because it was pushing fire through his veins and now, finally, he had a reason to let it flow. He mounted a horse and, giddyup, it was moving, he was moving, _got to warn my parents got to warn the people_ , he rode through the palace, horseshoes clacking loudly on stone floors never meant for such things. He found his parents in the throne room having a boring meeting with boring people and he thoroughly interrupted the monotony by riding a horse in and screaming like a madman. His parents rushed in the direction of the stables to fetch their horses and Yuuri screamed at them the same thing he'd screamed at his husband: meet me at the front gates in ten minutes, and if I'm not there, leave as fast as you possibly can without me.

He dismounted his horse and ran up the stairs to the Princess's room. He shouted something, possibly something incoherent, at Mari's door, and then he scooped her up bridal style the instant she opened her door and ran down the stairs with her. And as he was running towards his horse with the full intent of hopping on it with her and riding out of town as fast as the horse could gallop, his brain suddenly was in its own little world and despite his thundering footsteps, despite the shouting outside, despite the shouting inside as the servants and the bureaucrats who'd been in that meeting wondered what the hell was going on, despite Mari's shouting in his ear, everything was quiet except the steady pounding of his heart.

Then, a flash of pictures and scenes. A man with silver hair walks into a room containing a huge amber orb, which in turn, contains a man wearing the same royal dress he is wearing right now. A golden rack holding sixteen glowing orbs of various colors, each channeling its light into a dancer on the ice. A leafless blue flower poking out from the side of a sheet of ice. And the indescribable feeling of distance, not from space but time.

"Mari," Yuuri said, cutting his sister off mid-shout, not knowing or caring what she'd been saying before, "I need you to take my horse and evacuate as much of the city as you can. Please tell Phillip I love him and tell my family I'm fulfilling my role in the prophecy."

Mari was nothing if not trusting of her brother, and she looked like she were about to cry for a split second before nodding resolutely. They reached the throne room and she jumped on his horse, spurring it with her heel. She signed "I love you" over her shoulder as she rode out the palace gates, then she was gone.

Yuuri allowed himself one breath in silence before he walked up to the raised platform which held the thrones of the king and queen. He stood in front of both of them, pulled his wands from his robes (a spell this complex would require both to conduct properly), and set about creating a magical stasis pod. 

He brought the tips of his wands together and drew them out in a vertical line. 

This spell would protect him from physical and magical harm, allow his thoughts to remain continuous through time as his body was maintained at its present age.

He murmured, just loud enough for them to activate the appropriate leylines, a series of arcane phrases, then drew his wands in two concentric circles.

In addition, if he got this next part right, he could attract any large magical being and trap its essence with him. So long as there was still arcane power flowing through his mind, he could keep the Shadow at bay. It would still wreak some of its destruction, but nowhere near to the magnitude it would have otherwise. And, if the oracles were right, he would only have to be here for five hundred years. That was when the hero was destined to save him. _Viktor Nikiforov... what an interesting name._

He could feel the magic bubbling up inside his mind. It was expending a lot of his mental energy, like trying to remember too many things at once. He murmured a few more arcane phrases and touched his wands together at the tips, pulling them apart gently in a horizontal line as though spinning a fine line of silk between.

Just as he was completing the spell, he got a flash of inspiration. Being in magical stasis for five hundred years would be terribly dull, and given that he was also going to be staving off a shadow demon for five hundred years, he would need some motivation. He'd already factored in the part of the spell that would set the trials he had already made in motion, as well as the part that would create the semi-spacial doorways. But he wanted to see more of his kingdom as it evolved over the next five hundred years. It would give him motivation if he knew who he was saving. But how to watch unobtrusively?

The idea came to him a few seconds later and he traced out a small pattern like a lily but with a thicker stem and no leaves, deciding to leave some along leylines near towns. After this he finished up his spell, crossing his wands over each other in an X before flipping his wands back into his robes. He felt the magic flee his mind, like a slightly less unpleasant version of getting the wind knocked out of him, or like the heavy air of a storm rushing past. In that moment as the magic left, he realized that he had pulled enough energy into himself that he could see everything along the major leylines. He saw Mari talking to his parents and to Philip. His parents were bawling openly, his mother especially. Philip was sobbing quietly with wide eyes, his hands in his mussed black hair. After what was a brief moment but felt like an eternity, he noticed Yuuri watching, magically, unintentionally, and somehow found out his husband's intentions. His hands dropped slowly and his lips approximated a smile. As Yuuri's consciousness faded from the scene, he was speaking quietly to Yuuri's parents, consoling them. Philip always had a way with people. Yuuri knew... _hoped..._ they would be okay.

At the same time, Yuuri's consciousness appeared in thousands of other places. Mostly, his brain couldn't process the information, but two scenes stood out. The spot where the darkness had erupted was nearly on top of a small backwater fishing town. The natives of this town all had silvery hair, but the total population had a decent number of tourists. This was the town he had spent his early teens in, where he had met Lilia. He watched as the town was swallowed by darkness. 

He mostly didn't see any specific people, just shapes and emotions. But as he watched, he noticed the terrified face of a silver-haired boy with slightly-too-long bangs. He saw the words that formed on his lips which he knew were of a dialect that would become Viktor's native tongue. And then the little boy was snatched up by a tall and angular figure with long dark hair, who ran with him into the forest. A shorter, stockier woman ran behind her with a slightly younger silver-haired girl in her arms. Yuuri's consciousness was pulled from the scene before he knew what had happened, and a moment later he was sealed behind a wall of amber.

* * *

The modified soul orb fulfilled its purpose for the next few centuries. Yuuri watched his people cower in fear of the night and the resulting fury gave him the strength to fight the Shadow, day after day. It crept into his mind in the form of self-doubt, which Yuuri had always had lots of anyway. He knew how to deal with it. Maybe Goddess had given him anxiety so that he would know how to cope with his destiny when it came for him. 

Yuuri watched two small villages grow back where the fishing town had once been. They continued to fish, but they also developed crude things approximating skates to get across the frozen lake to the other town in the winter. Even after the other village disappeared, its people melding into the first, the inhabitants continued to skate. And even after all the original natives died off, a stubborn strain of genetics allowed at least one child in every generation to be born with silver hair. 

As the centuries passed, as the silver-haired boys and girls found out about the legend and attempted in various capacities to fulfill their "destinies", Yuuri watched them. Some completed a few trials, some completed none at all. The prince adored watching their journies at first, but as the clock ticked on his prophecy, as five centuries approached, Yuuri began to get nervous. No sign of a savior had presented itself. The oracles had been right so far, but despite all logic, Yuuri worried. He let the worry loosen his grip on the Shadow, and just as the fourth century was nearing its close, a group of Shadow warriors managed to leave Yuuri's control. Their numbers were few, but moved at night and burned villages to the ground, stealing those who ran from their homes to escape the flames and letting the rest die. The few who survived managed to do so only because they were small children, and even so they had to try to be well-hidden from the darkness; that way, the Shadows wouldn't notice them or wouldn't care enough to take them. 

Yuuri hated himself for allowing that to happen, and resolved to contain the Shadow with all his might until his life force ran out, regardless of whether a hero came for him or not. Only a few years after he had made that decision (a few years is only a long time to those whose lives are short) Yuuri saw Viktor.

The rest either is or will be history.


	7. Trial 6: Blades of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor barely completes trial #5, finally learns how to mount his skate blades, and finds out about the snap tool. He and Yurio head to their next trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter this time because I didn't have a lot to say (plus the previous chapter was super long). Next one will be a bit longer, and the next one will be MUCH longer. Just going through a low-ish spot while we change arcs and while I plan stuff. See the notes after the chapter for a full list of the songs I used and am going to use for inspiration for this fic!

Viktor and Yurio made their way north along the Elms Mountains towards the next trial. It was substantially less cold at ground level than up on the mountain, but that began to change as they approached the trial. By the time they arrived, a flurry of light powdery snow had turned the pair's silver hair white. They both practiced for some time before Viktor got in his starting pose: right arm forward, left toe in the ice: reaching out. The song was _The Hero_.

The music began with a simple melody of piano notes and chords, drifting over the breeze with elegance but power. Viktor raised his outstretched arm as he pulled himself back, using his left toepick as an anchor. He glided smoothly into crossovers as the brass entered the song, and on the drum beats did a beautiful triple-double, both jumps clean.

He did a sequence of travelling 3-turns into a back camel spin as the strings came in, but it was slow and it travelled a lot - he'd lost his footing during the travelling 3's. Viktor channeled his frustration at the Shadow into his skating and nearly overrotated the double axel at the end of his step sequence as a result. The piano melody disappeared for a time, the strings and brass taking over, and Viktor pulled off a brilliant Ina Bauer. Both Viktor and the song came to a ritando, and after a few cross strokes at the end of the ice, Viktor raised a hand to the sky, palm open as though recieving a gift. 

_That was awful,_ Viktor thought as he skated to Yurio.

"That was awful," Yurio said. There was no bite to his voice; he said it like the truth.

"I know," Viktor said with a sigh. He sat heavily on the flattened rock beside the ice sheet.

"I wonder whether anything's going to happen," said Yurio. He didn't seem terribly upset.

Before Viktor got the chance to respond, the doors resounded a clang. They'd been opening this whole time. The deep voice of the Watching Eye resounded the words "That was barely acceptable. Do better." Viktor imagined Yuuri saying that to him in person and felt an awful pang of guilt in his heart despite the fact that he knew Yuuri would never use those words. He _thought_ Yuuri would never use those words, at least.

Viktor fetched his goodies from the room. He was learning how to hop off the ice sheet onto the rubbery flooring of the rooms without tripping over himself. He found another orb, of course, this time a rich blue-green color that Onyx might call cyan. And he found a spool of purple thread that seemed to shine when he brought it out into the light. It was slightly stretchy, like the clothing Yurio had given him, but there wasn't anywhere near enough of it to make anything out of it, and besides, he was no weaver.

He skated back across the ice sheet and let Yurio examine the purple thread while he unlaced his skates. "This is certainly elastic, or at least it has elastic woven into it," Yurio said. "I'm not arcanely talented enough to tell you whether it has magical properties. My expert analysis: heck if I know."

"Thanks anyways."

"What're you going to do about how much your skating sucked?" Yurio asked after a pause.

_Ah yes, that. Thank you so very much for reminding me._ "I don't know. I know it wasn't me, it was-"

"Yeah, yeah, the Shadow. I know."

"I don't know how to counteract that. It just seems to be moving the ice under my feet with no rhyme or reason."

"I understa- _wait a moment."_ Yurio pulled his pack from the ground and pulled out his skates. He emphatically gestured towards the blade. At first, Viktor was incredibly confused.

"Eh?"

Viktor thought Yurio's eyes would just turn back in his head and never come out again given how emphatically he rolled them. "No, dumbass. I got my blades from the trial! You still have your old ones!"

"You're right! I never had you teach me to change them!"

Viktor dug around in his backpack until he found the skate blades. He had turned them towards each other and tied them by the little holes in the mounts so that the blades wouldn't cut up his pack. He quickly untied the twine he'd used and held up the metal blades to Yurio. He took one and set the other at his side.

"Alright, old man. Here's what you wanna do. There are some nails that hold your boot to your blade. You wanna take em out. I have a tool for that right here." He pulled from his pack something that looked like a very oddly proportioned hammer: the part for pulling nails was tiny and tapered towards the end, as well as being curved much more than a normal hammer. The head was also pretty tiny, the shaft pretty thin, and the whole thing shined with what Viktor would assume was a magical aura. He watched Yurio use it to gently pull the tiny nails from the wooden sole of the skate. 

"If these were any regular nails, they would come right out pretty quickly. But they're imbued with a spell that makes them stick to wood. The counter-spell, of course, is in this tool: if the nail and the tool are touching, the nail slides into or out of the wood just like any normal nail." Yurio proceeded to toss Viktor's old blade into the woods a short distance from the ice sheet with remarkable strength. Viktor made to protest, but thought better of it mostly because he was lazy and didn't want to go looking for it. Meanwhile, Yurio aligned the holes in the mounts of the golden blades with the previous holes, then hammered in the tiny nails.

"There you go," he said when he finished, "done."

"I have a second skate."

"Do it yourself." Yurio tossed his oddly-proportioned magic hammer in Viktor's direction, who caught it before it had the chance to smack him in the face.

It was harder than Yurio had made it look to pull out the magic nails. The pulling out was easy, but positioning the end of the tool in the right way to get it under the nail head was hard. After hefinally got all the nails out, he looked up at Yurio with puppy dog eyes and an "I did good right?" expression to find Yurio yawning.

"Jeez, you take forever. Wake me when you're done." With that Yurio lay on the ground, using his pack as a pillow like he did when they slept at night, and fake-snored obnoxiously.

Viktor let out a little chuckle and changed the blade, hammering in the nails with vigor. In a few more minutes he "woke" Yurio, who admired their collective craftsmanship (what he actually said was "hm, you didn't eff up too horribly, old man", but his eyebrows shot up in a way that made it clear he was impressed). 

"By the way, what's this thingy called?" Viktor asked, holding up the weird little hammer tool. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, so they set out to round the mountain to get to their next trial.

Yurio took it and stuffed it into his pack over his shoulder. "It's called a snap tool. SNPP. Skate nail pulling and pounding. Whoever came up with that name must have thought they were awfully clever."

Viktor gave a little smirk.

* * *

"Yurio, do you think changing blades will help me combat the Shadow?" Viktor asked, some time later. The mountain was just starting to curve, Viktor's compass needle just starting to point west, and the sun was halfway through the process of setting.

"Maybe. But it's definitely worth a shot. I've never personally noticed the Shadow messing me up in a major way, so maybe it mitigates its influence."

"That could just be that the Shadow knows you aren't the hero." Viktor involuntarily put his index finger to his lips the way he did when he thought. Unfortunately, Yurio seemed to hate it when he did that.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, too loudly.

Viktor shrugged. "You said yourself that you wanted to become the prince instead of saving him. Your general attitude towards the prophecy of the hero seems to be _legend schmegend, who cares_."

Yurio was quiet for some time after that, staring at the ground. Presumably Viktor had said a true thing, but said it in the wrong way. Yakov used to call that "being too blunt". This trip seemed to be teaching him was that Yakov is a lot righter about a lot of things than Viktor had previously given him credit for. Then again, Yakov had also always told him that destiny was an overrated piece of garbage, and yet here was Viktor, who seemed to eat, sleep, and breathe destiny these days.

Oh, well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sixteen trials, I came up with a four-movement orchestral soundtrack which, in the context of the fic, was invented by a musically gifted prophet and is performed by bards and bands alike throughout the land. Each song draws inspiration from a song which has had some impact on my life, mean something in the context of YOI and/or this fic, or that I just generally like. Obviously, the songs I list as inspiration have almost nothing to do with each other, and as such there are no repeating themes as there would be in the actual pieces if I ever composed them (which I won't, because I'm not a composer; if any of you feel like randomly composing an orchestral soundtrack I would be ECSTATIC). I show you these songs not so you can HAVE the music in the fic, but so you can IMAGINE it. Now, without further ado:
> 
> Movement 1: Love and Hate  
> The Stage is Set (based on "Maria and the Violin's String" by Ashram)  
> The Shadow (choreography AND music inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU7QVbE5Pv8 this program I did when I was 13; if you want an idea of what your author looks like, think of that but more mature and with shorter hair)  
> On Love: Eros  
> On Love: Agape
> 
> Movement 2: The Journey  
> The Hero (based on "Daydream")  
> Shadow Dance (based on "Allegro Appassionato in B Minor" from YOI, which in turn shares a lot of themes with Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto #1 in B Flat Minor; being a Tchaikovsky nerd, I like to think the first was based on the second)  
> On My Love (aka "Yuri On Ice")  
> The Journey Continues (based on "Trasklåt")
> 
> Movement 3: Not So Fast  
> The Onyx Cobras (based on "Gypsy Soul" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63zqNQsgPns)  
> The Hero's Fight (based on "Sand" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63SctRxGcx0)  
> And Yet The Worst Is Yet To Come (based on "Master of Shadows", Two Steps From Hell)  
> I Must Get Stronger (based on "The Light" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY9fnZ3MIZw)
> 
> Movement 4: Finale  
> Let's End This (based on "Avrora" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0iRMBz7_Wic)  
> The Last Skate (based on "Fire On Ice" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7zGS4AnN3g)  
> The Hero is Successful (Love Wins) (based on "La Valse D'Amélie")  
> The Kingdom is Restored (based on "Ice Dance" http://youtube.com/watch?v=VMfs1rlw4tc)


	8. Trial 7: Hellfire Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yurio complete their second-to-last mountain trial. Yurio shows off his gymnastics ability and attempts to teach Viktor how to land a quad salchow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, short chapter, not a lot to say, but the next one is super long. It will also be posted today so hopefully that makes up for this. Little bit of Yurio POV in this one, because Yurio is fun :D

"Viktor, this is the fifth cave we've been into. Are you _sure_ he said it's in a cave?" Yurio's voice echoed off the dark, damp cave walls.

"Yes. Maybe it'll be the next one!" Viktor spun on his heel and the clicking sound of his soles over the stone and clay echoing gave him the impression he was being followed. Viktor didn't like caves any more than Yurio did, but he didn't have a lot of choice. It was his destiny to complete these trials and save Yuuri, and if he and Yurio needed to get over their collective claustrophobia to that end, so be it.

"And maybe it won't be. Look, Viktor, can't we just rest for a little bit."

"After this next one."

Yurio groaned and trudged after him.

The sun was high in the sky, but the smattering of grey clouds made it seem like dusk. Viktor's fur-lined coat was on but unfastened, the open front blowing in the wind. Yurio shivered through his own coat, hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers. He seemed less well-adjusted to cold than Viktor, which at first seemed odd before Viktor considered that though his companion was well-travelled, he was well-travelled only through southen regions. Viktor himself had grown up in a town that was temperate in the summer and freezing in the winters.

The next cave wasn't far from the previous one, but the entrance was much less visible. If caves had mouths, this one was whistling. They weren't sure it was a cave at all until Yurio got on his hands and knees, holding the orange soul orb into the hole. 

"Yep, there's a sizeable space in there. Looks like there might be a lake or something. You think you can fit, old man?"

Viktor rolled his eyes and knelt down. He took his blue soul orb from his backpack before handing it to Yurio and beginning to crawl. His trousers became covered in cold red clay from the knees down, and the back of his shirt was dirtied as well when it hit the lower parts of the crawl space. He fortunately didn't have to crawl very far, and in a few seconds the ceiling rose enough for him to kneel, then stand. He saw the shadows he cast in the light of Yurio's orb as his companion crawled through behind him.

Yurio had been right, there was a lake. Decently sized and partially frozen over. Was that Yurio's orb, or did the frozen part of the lake have a pinkish tint to it? Viktor walked closer to it, his boots thudding dully into the clay at their feet. The lake was almost but not entirely encircled by the cave, and the edge of the lake met the far cave wall with hardly a foot of space on a ledge between.

"Yurio, put your orb away," Viktor said, staring at the rink as if staring down an adversary.

Since they were standing together, Yurio saw no particular reason they needed two orbs, so he did as Viktor asked, nonetheless looking very confused.

The pinkish light remained, even got visibly stronger. It seemed to eminate not from under the ice but from the side of it. Viktor smirked. "Yurio, I found it."

"You're sure."

"For Goddess's sake- yes, I'm sure. Do you know how I could get over there?"

"Get a running start?" Yurio suggested jocularly.

"Yurio..."

"Fine. There's a ledge over there, looks like. Let's see if you can get across it."

They walked in silence to the other end of the lake. Every step echoed throughout the caverns, accompanied arrhythmically by drops from the stalagtites far above into the lake. It was eerie, yet calm. For Viktor, who had never been in a cave before, it was awe-inspiring.

The ledge was maybe ten centimeters across, five or six meters in length, but surprisingly hard and well-anchored. The side that was attached to the wall had a decently sized ditch in it, so it looked more like a single beam of wood stretched across the gap. Yurio walked up to it first, poking it, then standing on it, then jumping on it. "Sturdy," he said. "Not too slippery. You think you can make it across?"

"Can you?"

In response, Yurio stood on the ledge, took a running start, and did a front handspring with a half-rotation twist followed immediately by a back handspring. He gave a saccharine smile when he finished before stepping off the ledge and onto the small space where the cave met the ice, gesturing _your turn._

"Show off," Viktor mumbled as he walked briskly across the ledge, carrying both of their packs.

Despite not being visibly anchored to very much, the ice sheet was as stable as those in the other trials. The doors and the Watching Eye showed up as usual, and Viktor warmed up his elements. He did a full runthrough and skated over to Yurio, panting. He knew he'd cheated at least two of the jumps at the end. He just wasn't prepared to skate four straight minutes of perfection. "Hey... Yurio... this program is too... long for me, I ca- can't skate it all well enough."

Yurio seemed taken aback. "You didn't get one of these?" He pulled some of his hair out of the way to reveal a glittering piece of greenish metal pulling the lower layer of his hair back.

"No- wait, I think I did." Viktor skated over to the ledge and fished around for a moment until he pulled out a similar-looking piece of triangular metal, blue unlike Yurio's green. "Why, what does it have to do with this?"

"It improves your endurance. It was the first thing I got from a trial, the Eye—well, I guess that was Yuuri—explained it to me. Here, give it to me, I'll put it in for you."

Viktor handed Yurio the piece of metal, took his hair down, and leaned over a little to compensate for the sizeable height difference. Yurio pulled the hair on his right side back and clipped it behind his ear. Viktor felt the breath return to his lungs and felt his heart rate slow. "Now you can do a low ponytail, since these strands which aren't quite long enough are held in place."

Viktor pulled his hair back at the nape of his neck as Yurio had suggested, and was surprised that it worked. Viktor gave a little wink towards the Eye, and got no response as usual. It was fun anyways.

He got back to his practicing and found that he could run the entire program without tiring. He could run it twice without breaking a sweat. This left him room to improve his jumps and steps.

After a half an hour or so of practice, he gestured to Yurio that he was ready to start the trial. Yurio gave a thumbs-up and nodded, skating to the edge of the ice and sitting on the ledge they'd come over on.

Viktor had always thought of this music as a heated battle, so he'd choreographed using two opposing themes, almost as if he was alternating performing both parts of a partnered dance. Drawing recent inspiration from Yurio's _Eros_ , he decided that if this music were meant to be a partnered dance, it would surely be a tango. A tango of hellfire instead of roses.

His starting pose was simple: looking down, left leg outstretched, arms extended downwards to his sides. Like an actor waiting for a cue. The cascade of loud piano notes fell upon Viktor like a fire shower, enflaming his limbs. He hit four positions in a matter of milliseconds. First, an extension like a sideways arabesque, then a pirouette in a position not unlike a layback spin. He pulled himself downwards with arms outstretched, then brought his arms up above his head. 

He kicked quickly into a high and fast flying camel, holding it for only the necessary eight rotations before moving rapidly into a triple lutz. This program was mostly backloaded, and the next element was the choreographic sequence. 

He began it just as the strings came into the music. The sequence was serpentine, the first half comprised mostly of strings, the second comprised mostly of wind instruments. The first half represented the enemy, and was performed forwards, offensive. The second half represented his allies, and was performed backwards, defensive. A three-revolution outside twizzle was followed immediately by a loop and a quick counter. The twizzle was slightly cheated but that was alright. A sequence of brackets followed, then a sequence of toe turns and flops which accompanied a long arpeggio on the piano that served as the transition.

Viktor ended the first half of his sequence backwards to begin the second half. A back inside twizzle, turning the other way on the other foot, three revolutions, plus a toe turn. Outside spiral. Cross roll and spreadeagle, back to moving forwards. The next jump was a triple flip, Viktor's favorite. He made sure there was at least one flip or flip combination in each program he choreographed. 

The flip was perfect, and the next element was his combination spin. A front camel spin with a layover, tuck with his free arm pulled out in back, side layback with one arm over his head, like a stretch. He took his time with the camel spin - he'd found he was very good at holding them for a long time. Sometimes when he practiced, he would go into a camel spin and when he finally came out, he would find Yurio pulling bits of his silver hair around to look like a beard, hunching over and groaning in an old man's voice, "It's been eighty-three years..." Viktor couldn't spare the breath to chuckle out loud at the memory, but he did it inside his head. 

Next came a jump combination—double axel, half loop, triple salchow—then a spiral sequence, purely for the purpose of demonstrating how amazing his edges were. Forward outside to back outside by way of a bracket. 

There were two more jumps, both combinations, and one more spin. Viktor felt himself starting to tire, to lose the spark the program needed to be perfect. _What do I do? It's not like I can do the reverse of that thing Yurio showed me, can I?_ As he choctawed himself toward the first combination, he had an idea. Counting slowly and calmly helped release anger, so could counting quickly and rousingly help pull it back? It was worth a shot.

_1, 2, 3-_

Rapid crossovers on each count. Viktor bit his lip and furrowed his brow. 

_4, 5, 6, 7-_

Glide back for a count, flip forward and turn backward-

_8, 9-_

Pick-

_10!_

The triple toe loop was nearly overrotated, which made doing the subsequent double difficult. Viktor managed it though, and the energy from that jump carried him through the rest of the program. Before he really knew what was going on, he was panting in his ending pose.

"Better," the Eye said, sounding less disappointed than last time. Suddenly feeling drained, Viktor hobble-skated to the room. He got another orb, this one glowing with a soft, pleasant pinkish light, and a sizeable purple gemstone, marquis cut, with small holes in each end. Yet another thing to ask Yurio about.

When Viktor got back onto the ice, Yurio had his hair pulled back and was practicing some jump. It looked like a triple salchow. "Hey, Yurio?" Viktor asked.

"If you're wondering what I think you are," Yurio said, running his hands through his hair, "the answer is yes, that was a quad."

"Whoa, Yurio, that's amazing!" Viktor exclaimed, totally forgetting what he'd been meaning to ask before. "Can you teach me?"

Yurio smiled and nodded, pulling out the tie he'd been using to pull his bangs back and letting them fall over his right eye once more. 

_He wouldn't have just agreed when we first met. I would say he's come a long way, but really, we both have._ Viktor let the corners of his mouth turn up slightly as he remembered their first interaction. He had been condescending, Yurio had been hostile. He wasn't sure they were really friends (though he'd been considering Yurio as a friend in the secrecy of his mind for some time now), but they certainly weren't enemies anymore.

When Yurio demonstrated the proper technique slowly, and Viktor tried to follow along, he remembered the things he had in his hands. He opened his palms, showing them to Yurio. "I need to go set these in my bag," he said, and turned to skate to the ice edge.

Yurio put his hand on Viktor's shoulder to stop him. "What's that purple thing?"

"I was going to ask you. It's a little gem, what kind I'm not sure, with two holes in the top and bottom." Viktor handed it over and Yurio turned it over in his palm as he talked.

"Well, the bad news is that I have no clue what this could be either. It has a cut and color like an amethyst, but the cleavage is all wrong. It looks like a purple diamond, but those don't exist in such a bright lavendar, just really light lilac and really dark violet. The good news is I know what that purple thread is for now."

Viktor's confusion must have been apparent because Yurio elaborated, "You use the thread to sew the gem into your clothes. I'm going to bet this gem has some kind of magical property because just about everything we've gotten from the trials does, but _what_ kind... beats me."

"Do you know where I should sew it?"

Yurio shrugged. "Heck if I know. Probably depends on the spell which again, dunno."

"Thanks anyway. I'll put these in my pack, be right back."

* * *

Victor did a few fidgety footwork moves while Viktor put his goodies away. Victor was honestly surprised that his friend didn't have any quads, he seemed more than a good enough skater to manage it. Maybe that was the problem with being mostly self-taught - Victor himself had been taught, mainly by people at the circus, to do a variety of things. Most of them were almost or completely useless to his present life—tightrope walking, gymnastics, various kinds of dancing—but figure skating had turned out to be immensely helpful.

Viktor skated back over with an innocent smile on his face. _Please help me now?_ it said. Victor might once have been reluctant to do that, might have lorded his superior jumps over the older man, but the thought which once came immediately to the forefront now left a bitter taste in his mind. 

Victor had never really cared about anyone since his grandfather. He'd gotten so used to living in a world defined by his hatred that he'd almost forgotten what it was like. Did Viktor think of him as a friend? Acquaintance? Simply a travel companion? He wouldn't put it past the man to be that oblivious.

Victor demonstrated his technique again. It mostly involved jumping as high as he could and pulling in as tight as possible, he explained as he moved. He let Viktor try it after that, but he toppled out of it, forwards. It was more an overrotated triple than a quad.

"You're not bringing your leg through enough. Look, knee first, like you're climbing onto something. And you have to turn on your toepick." Viktor gave a nod and tried again. This time it was more rotated, but there was absolutely no power.

"You're scraping on your toepick going in. Don't rock forward until you've hit your hook and you're ready to jump. Just get really deep into that edge without scraping." 

This went on for some time until Viktor had something resembling an underrotated quad. Victor had made the same correction about jumping higher about five times, and was starting to get really pissed off. "Look, Viktor, you have to jump more. You can't do a quad with the height of a triple, and I'm honestly surprised you're managing triples. You're like four inches off the ground!"

"Look, Yurio, let's just be done for today. I'll practice later and I'll do some skipping off-ice in the meantime."

Victor sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Fine, old man. Let's take our skates off." 

The problem with that plan is that Viktor jumped just fine off-ice. He had more than enough height. It was just that he didn't seem to let himself do it on-ice. Some kind of mental block, or a lack of drive, or something. Victor thought that over as he unlaced his skates. He himself had never once suffered from a lack of drive, so he didn't understand it, but it was possible. Viktor didn't seem like the sort of person who would, either, though. That was the thing. He always seemed so confident and sure of himself. Could that be a facade?

The next trial was in Kamyinsk. He hadn't expected to ever go there, even when he decided to set out to complete his destiny. On some level, he might have once thought the city was a myth, or at the least, the rumor that it still existed and thrived was a myth. But in a few days or a week, he and Viktor would be there. Odd how the destiny part had failed to work out but the ancient city part had worked out fine. Odd how life does that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters are parts 1 and 2 for trial #7. I split it because if I had made it into one chapter, it would probably have read somewhat odd given the switching POVs, plus it would be the longest chapter in this entire work (by far; the longest chapter right now takes up 14 pages in TNR 12pt single spaced, that's ch.1, if I had made those two into one chapter it would take up over 30 pages probably lol). Next chapter (complete) introduces Phichit, Mila, and Sara; the one after (still in progress) introduces Michele and Otabek.


	9. Trial 8, Part 1: On My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yurio arrive at the city of Kamyinsk, the only city still intact from before the Shadow besides the Capitol. In the first chapter of their visit to the city on ice, Viktor meets Sara and Mila, who give him a short lesson. Meanwhile, Yurio meets Michele, who promises to teach him the arts of swordsmanship. Viktor finds and skates his next trial, to the song On My Love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoooo boy! Not only did this chapter take forever, not only is it nearly the longest chapter in this fic, it's also only part 1! I actually cried writing parts of this, and I had to re-watch episode 7 several times for research. There are so many parallels to that episode here. I really hope you enjoy how much of an emotional mess Viktor is for Yuuri; you've seen it before but it's especially apparent here. To those who love my confident and emotionally stable Viktor: don't worry! He's not gone, just briefly on vacation during this emotional rollercoaster. When he realizes Yuuri isn't going anywhere he'll go back to his old self, but with an improved love life xD

A blanket of harsh white covered the world, tinted grey by the overcast clouds. A thin fog of windblown snow covered the ground, shifting to and fro like a sea of tiny ghosts.

"Are you _sure_ the trial is this far north?"

"What's with you always asking whether I'm sure? It should be only another kilometer or two."

"I'm getting frostbite."

"Give me your hands." Viktor took Yurio's hand in his. The boy's small fingers were very cold, but there were no visible signs of frostbite. "Do they feel numb or warm?"

"What? No, they're just tingly."

"Then you don't have frostbite. You should be fine, but let's pick up the pace." Viktor broke into a light jog and Yurio followed. 

* * *

Viktor had heard of the city of Kamyinsk. Nearly everyone had. Besides the Capitol, it was the only town that remained mostly intact after the war. The Capitol was still there because Yuuri protected it. Kamyinsk was still there because it was and had always been a city of sorcerers. Before the Shadow, it had been an arcane epicenter for inventing and researching.

There was no wall surrounding the city, only a glistening barrier of magenta. Beyond that, hundreds of guards in fortified robes, carrying swords and spears with magenta blades. Beyond them, a city made of dark wood and metal.

"How are we going to get in there?" Yurio mumbled as they walked towards the barrier. 

Viktor raised an eyebrow at him, then walked a little closer to the barrier and waved. Two of the guards walked a few steps forward, spears at their sides. "Who are you?" The barrier didn't seem to block his voice at all. He had a heavy accent Viktor hadn't heard before.

"We're travellers," Viktor said with a smile. "Very cold ones."

"Mhm," the left-hand guard said, clearly not buying it. "Travellers from where?"

Viktor pointed back they way they came. 

"There's not a village that way for at least a day's journey on horseback, and you two came on foot. You're going to have to do better than that, _Shadow followers._ "

"She thinks we're Shadow followers?" Viktor said, turning to Yurio. 

"Of course she does, you idiot. How else would we have made it through last night?"

"But we have-"

"She doesn't know that!"

"Oh."

The guard's spear made a soft thudding noise as she tapped the end of it in the packed snow impatiently. "Is there something you can show me that would convince me otherwise?" she asked, still clearly skeptical.

"What if I told you I'm the hero of legend?" Viktor said without a second thought, index finger on his lips.

"Viktor, is that smart?!" Yurio chided.

"She's obviously not a Shadow follower, it's not likely she associates with them, who else cares?"

"You are too damn trusting..."

"Excuse me," the guard said, loudly, obviously tired of being ignored. "Do you have any evidence for this claim?"

"Oh yeah, he has buckets," Yurio sighed.

Viktor dug around in his backpack and pulled out his skates, "I have the blades of gold," two of the soul orbs, a red one and a blue one, "these soul orbs that I got from the trials, and" he pulled off the wool cap he'd taken back from Yurio earlier and undid his ponytail, "hair of silver."

"And I don't have any evidence for this part, but take it from me, he's super gay for the Prince," Yurio added. Viktor winced internally but said nothing.

The guards were both silent for some time, then they walked away from the barrier to talk with a few of the other guards in the line. Viktor made to replace his wool cap, but Yurio swiped it from him. Not keen to look like bickering children in front of people with spears, Viktor grinned and bore the wind whipping through his silver hair. It had been so long since he had his hair down when not on the ice, and the familiar sight of his fringe moving back and forth over his left eye gave him some small comfort.

Only one of the guards returned. "You may enter," she said. "Stand back." Viktor and Yurio did so, and the guard brought her spear down in a vertical slice through the barrier. The line stretched out into an oval wide enough to allow the two passage inside. They hurried in and Viktor noticed how much warmer it was inside the barrier than out. Yurio finally brought his hands out from under his armpits and cupped them over his mouth, breathing on them.

Viktor looked around with wide eyes. Everything in this city was much more advanced than it was everywhere else. The buildings were made of a dark wood and reinforced with metal. The homes were two or three stories tall, and there were other buildings much taller. The building in the very center, just past the town square, was large enough to be a castle. But the most impressive thing was the fact that the whole town sat on top of a giant sheet of ice, the buildings held in their places by giant iron stakes driven into the ice. The townspeople glided around on padded figure skates. 

"Yurio! Look! They're skating everywhere!"

"I noticed."

"I'm putting my skates on." Viktor walked briskly over to where the packed snow melded into the ice. He stood on the edge of the ice and bent over to take off his shoes and lace up his skates. Yurio followed suit after he noticed a total lack of benches. 

They skated towards the town square for lack of anything better to do. The air was warm and pleasant, a light breeze meandered between the buildings. Looking up, Viktor saw the blizzard forming outside the magical dome. 

"Hey! Look where you're going!" exclaimed a young lady, who darted around him. He wasn't used to having to avoid people while on ice. He'd have to get used to that.

Deliberately looking where he was going now, Viktor saw a group of children playing in the town square. Evidently, one of the children had a very good hydroblade and was teaching the others. On the other end of the center, a small band was playing an upbeat tune. Viktor looked down the street to his left and he saw a long string of shops with tiny multicolored glowing things strung up along their roofs. 

"Yurio! Let's go shopping!" Viktor exclaimed, his mouth forming a heart. 

"Remember what we're here for. Come on, let's go to the town hall, they might have someone who knows where we might find our next trial."

Viktor knew this town had a lot of super cool stuff, and he couldn't just let it all be unknown. He looked over his friend quickly and got an idea. "You look really cold, though. Wouldn't you like something nice and warm to drink?"

Yurio stopped aggressively breating into his palms to consider the proposition. Finally, he replied, "You're buying."

"Of course! I'm freezing too!"

They stepped into the first shop they saw that said "cafe" on it. A sign on the front glowed and flashed red and blue, reading "OPEN", and Viktor wondered whether that was magic or not. When they entered, they found that the interiors of buildings used the same rubbery material on their floors that the rooms in the trials did.

"Hi!" Viktor smiled and waved at the young man at the counter. "What do you have that's hot?"

"We have cocoa, tea, and warm wine and sake," he replied with a smile, "as well as pastries I can heat up for you."

"Cocoa," Yurio said.

"He'll have a cocoa and I'll have some wine." 

The drinks were served up almost immediately in some odd cups that had a texture like paper but were much thicker. They had smooth lids that snapped seamlessly on top, with little holes you could sip your drink through. Viktor ranted, heart-mouthed, over the amazing technologies that made all this possible as they made their way further along the shops. Viktor managed to find out that the strings of glowing things were called fairy lights, that the rubber flooring was invented to be skate-blade-friendly so it wouldn't dull your blades to walk on them, and that the majority of the advances in the city's tech were made by the team of scientists in the royal lab, headed by a Mr. Choulanont. Viktor made a mental note to go visit him at some point during their trip.

For the time being, they had meandered long enough around the shops, and Yurio was dragging Viktor to the huge town hall so they could find the trial. They were nearing the town square when Viktor noticed a section of ice walled off with barriers around half Viktor's height, about the size of the sheets he had been skating on for the trials. People in glittering costumes performing elegant tricks were scattered about the ice, most moving very quickly. The sheet seemed tinted a little darker blue than the rest of the ice.

Viktor stared at it, briefly transfixed. "Yurio," he muttered, "I think I found it."

"Found what?"

Viktor broke from his trance, turning to face his friend. "The trial." He pointed.

Yurio looked skeptical, but loosened his death grip on Viktor's arm. "How do you know that?"

"I just do, let's go look at it okay?"

Yurio grabbed Viktor once more and began to drag him inside. "It's nearly sunset, you've led us off on too many tangents today, come on." 

"Who do you expect to find to ask? The two people who have the most knowledge about the trials, I've already contacted. Lilia didn't even know they existed until recently, and Yuuri already gave me their locations. I've been to a ton of these, and I think this is the next one."

* * *

The inside of the rink's barrier was lined with fairy lights. Viktor had never seen so many attractive men in spandex before. He'd also never seen the sorts of tiny skin-tight sparkly dresses the women were wearing. He understood how such dresses might have evolved out of ordinary dresses given the demands of figure skating: baggy clothing, including and especially long skirts, gets in the way of the intricate movements that make up skating.

Two women in particular stood out to him from the small crowd on the ice. One had golden skin and long black hair, pulled up in a ponytail at the crown of her head with a scrunchie. Her dress was a glittering purple with a low v-neck in the front, nearly backless save for two thick crossing straps, with a black ruffled skirt. She was practicing what looked to Viktor like a triple flip. The other was taller, paler, with short, fiery red hair that hung in ringlets. There was a little piece of metal, or a gemstone, pulling back one half of her hair. Her dress had a low scoop-neck, purple with white flower details and a layer of white lacy chiffon peeking out from under the solid purple of her skirt. She was practicing some intricate step sequence which trailed around the whole rink.

He watched them as he put his hair up, and when they skated over to the barrier at the other side of the rink from the doors, sipping from water bottles and chatting, he skated over. 

"Greetings, ladies," he said cordially. "I couldn't help but notice-"

"Your hair!" the bronze-skinned one exclaimed, her violet eyes widening.

Viktor ran his hand through his fringe sheepishly and nodded. "Viktor Nikiforov, legendary hero. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He did a little bow and regained his composure. "May I ask your names?"

"Uh. Sara. This is Mila."

"Is it really you?" Mila asked.

"I would say _the one and only,_ but I actually have a compatriot by the same name."

"That's got to be confusing," Mila said nonchalantly as Sara's mouth hung open.

"I call him Yurio."

"So how'd you get here?"

"Waitwaitwait." Sara literally stepped into Viktor's conversation with Mila, standing in between them. "So you're telling me you're the legendary hero Viktor Nikiforov."

"Yes."

"You're destined to save Prince Yuuri Katsuki."

"Yes."

"And you wanted to talk to us?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Simply: I thought you were excellent skaters and I need you to teach me."

"You don't have a coach or an entourage or something?"

"I barely even have Yurio."

"Aren't you famous though?"

"Yes, but that means more threats on my life than fan mail unfortunately."

Mila tapped Sara on the shoulder, who whipped around rapidly. "Sara, I think we should let the nice man-"

"Legendary hero!"

"-nice legendary hero ask what he came here to ask."

Viktor looked around at all the brand-new things—the fairy lights, the unknown substance of the barrier around the rink, the OPEN signs flickering off in the storefronts—so much of which he didn't understand at all. "I have a lot I would like to ask, if I had the chance, but most of it is silly. You're probably used to all this stuff, but the concept of, for example, making a drinking container out of paper, is novel to me. The technology everywhere else is just pitiful compared to here."

"Well if you wanted to ask about that, you should see Phichit at the royal lab. We just skate here." Mila chuckled.

"Phichit... Choulanont?" Viktor asked, connecting the first and last names he'd heard from various people.

"That's him. He skates here sometimes, when he's not busy doing sciencey stuff."

_A royal scientist and a figure skater. What an extraordinary person_. "I will do that. But anyway, I came over to ask whether one or both of you could teach me."

Mila gave a thumbs-up and a smile. "Sounds good. It's getting dark, though, so we can't teach you very long. It's not smart to skate by moonlight, you can't see well enough to skate well."

Viktor, who had skated in a cave, in the snow, in the rain, and on top of an actual mountain, simply nodded.

"You got a place to crash after we're done?"

"Uh, no, actually. I 'crash' at inns when I'm near a town and on the ground in the middle of nowhere when I'm not. If you're offering to let me stay with you I'd be honored." Viktor didn't usually stumble over himself like that, but nobody had been legitimately nice to him in weeks. Maybe months. He wasn't really keeping track because he was always so paranoid that the next human being he bumped into would be a Shadow follower waiting to kill him. But since there weren't likely to be any Shadow followers here given the way he and Yurio were welcomed, he could actually have meaningful interactions with people other than Yurio. It was nice.

"Of course I'm offering, that sounds like a rough way to live. Sara, can we take him and his pal back to ours?"

"Sounds good to me." She still seemed to be recovering from the whole 'a legendary hero is talking to me' thing, but Mila seemed to calm her.

Mila skated to center ice and Viktor and Sara followed. "Okay, so go on through your jumps. Sara's the better jumper so she can help you with that. Then I can help you with spins and footwork, and then we'll be done for the day. We can work some more tomorrow morning. Sound good?"

Viktor nodded, glancing at the sun. _Set slower, please. I need their help._

In the end, they worked Viktor through all his jumps up through the quad lutz, and most of the spins and steps he knew. Viktor was positive that every quad he'd attempted was cheated, but at least they weren't overrotated triples anymore. As Yurio had told him, the trick to quads was more jumping higher than it was pulling in tighter. As Yurio had failed to tell him, though, there was a whole art to snapping his hips around during his rotation that Viktor needed to practice. The ticket to centered spins was in something called a rocker, which Viktor mostly found intuitively; once he knew what it was and that he needed to find it and center on it, he improved dramatically. The key to most footwork moves was in the center of gravity, and being able to adjust it rapidly, rather than keeping perfectly steady the whole time. Sara and Mila gave him a ton of exercises to do to continue improving his skills.

They found Yurio in the town hall talking to a short man with an undercut and a stocky build. Sara and Mila dragged him away and they headed back to their home long after the streetlamps were the only available light.

Sara and Mila's place was directly across from where Viktor and Yurio had entered, in what seemed to be a residential district. Viktor was still getting used to the concept of skating everywhere: he could skate so much faster than he could walk, but he didn't want to. He wanted to look at every home, with its slightly different construction pattern, look at the layout of the city and the people moving through it, look at the streetlamps which had come on automatically as the sky had grown darker and that were now illuminating the scene with a pale yellow glow.

But in a few minutes they were there. A relatively simple two-story thing with a sloped roof and a porch on the side. Sara unlocked the door and snapped her fingers to turn on the lights. They sat in the foyer and took their skates off, and Mila showed Viktor and Yurio how to dry their blades.

They walked out of the foyer and directly into the kitchen. Viktor and Yurio sat at the island in the middle and Sara fetched them glasses of water with ice from the icebox before heading upstairs with Mila. "We're going to get changed into regular clothes and wash up, do you want us to grab you some clothes to change into?"

"Would you have anything that would fit us?" Yurio asked.

"You can wear some of mine, and I think Mila's ex-boyfriend left some stuff here that might fit your friend," Sara said as she scaled the stairs.

Yurio raised his eyebrows and Viktor shrugged in response.

"We've had quite the day, haven't we," Viktor said, sighing.

"Mm."

"And tomorrow I get more skating lessons from these two nice ladies and I go to the royal lab to talk to Mr. Phichit Choulanont."

"Tomorrow I meet with that guard for a swordfighting lesson."

"'That guard'?"

"The one we met at the gate. His name is Michele. He and his friend Otabek are going to teach me."

"You're getting a swordfighting lesson from my brother?" Sara asked. She brought an armful of clothes and set them on the empty chair beside Viktor. She had changed into a pair of grey stretchy pants with a drawstring that didn't seem to be necessary and a loose white shirt that looked like it ought to be an undergarment. The only thing she had on that was familiar to Viktor was the black apron she had fetched off the top of the pile. 

"Michele Crispino is your brother?"

"My very own overprotective older brother, yes. Did you meet him when you entered?"

While Yurio talked to Sara, Viktor sifted through the pile of clothes she'd brought down, trying to find what was good enough to try on. There was a sleeveless top that looked like it was supposed to make a man look as sexually appealing as possible. No thanks if Yuuri's not there to see it. There was a short sleeved black shirt that looked like it would fit, so he put that in his lap. A pair of black pants that looked around the right size, as well as a pair of grey ones that looked kind of similar to the ones Sara was wearing. He put all that in his arms and looked to Sara.

"Where can I try these on?" he asked a break in the conversation.

She pointed to a door to her right. "That's the living room, there's nobody in there."

"Thank you," Viktor said as he entered. He heard Sara resuming her rant about how her brother didn't even let anyone come near enough to date her until last year before he shut the door behind him. The room was small but well-organized, with a thickly padded low couch, a table in front, and two chairs on the opposite sides. Bookshelves covered two of four walls.

The black pants were about the right size, but they didn't fit over his ass. The grey ones did, but just barely. He had to cinch the drawstring to get them to not sag down his hips. The black shirt he expected would fit, did. Then he finally took his hair down and fit the scrunchie around his wrist, running his fingers through his hair.

"How do I look?" Viktor asked when he stepped out. Mila whistled and Viktor chuckled. Then he smelled what Sara had been cooking and forgot all about how he looked. 

He looked into the pan and saw brown, red, yellow, and green. She stirred the pan with a wooden spoon before replading the lid, and she must have noticed him drooling because she said, "We don't have a lot, but I wanted to make sure there was enough for you two. I made up a little something with kielbasa and red peppers. There's some broccoli in the oven to complement."

"Sara is an amazing cook, as I assume you can tell." Mila winked. 

As promised, the food was absolutely amazing. Sara had added a dusting of lemon zest to the broccoli that gave it an interesting tang, and the red peppers worked nicely with the kielbasa. After dinner they worked out sleeping arrangements. Viktor thought he must have worried their hosts with how ecstatic both he and Yurio were at the prospect of sleeping even on the floor. Well-kempt carpet beat a straw mattress in an inn or the hard dirt outdoors any night.

In the end, Yurio got the couch in the living room and Viktor got a bed in a spare room upstairs. He wasn't that tired, but the bed was just so comfy that Viktor fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

_"They're going to come at you from all angles. Trying to distract you or throw you off your pattern. They'll walk onto the ice and try to get you to move around them, they'll disguise themselves as anyone to get to that end." Yuuri's voice sounded like it was a short distance behind him, but apparently Yurio couldn't hear him._

_"What did he say?"_

_"The Shadow followers are going to walk on the ice and try and get me off pattern."_

_"Then I guess I just have to kill them before they can get to you." Viktor didn't understand how Yurio could say that so nonchalantly. He stared blankly into the fire as his companion sharpened his sword._

_"Yuuri, will a sword even kill a Shadow warrior?"_

_"If they take physical form, Shadow warriors can be hurt by physical weapons. However, for optimal effect, the weapon should be imbued with a light or fire spell."_

_"Is_ lux solis _enough?"_

_"Yes. But be on your guard. Get on as the sun rises so you have the light on your side. I'll tell you when. Tell Yurio to be on his guard. I love you, Vitya."_

_"I will. I love you, too."_

_Viktor and Yurio spent the next hour in darkness. The sky lightened gradually around the pair, and when the sun was just about to peek over the horizon, Viktor saw them: the Shadow warriors. His heart instantly began racing. They looked all wrong: too dark, strangely proportioned, monstrous. And far too fast. They kept melding in and out of the shadows every time Viktor blinked, and their walk was as fast as an ordinary person's sprint._

_"Yuuri!"_

* * *

"Viktor!" He heard his name almost immediately after he woke up. He peeled himself from the sweat-soaked sheets and double checked to make sure the door was locked before stripping his clothes off. He sat naked on the floor in the dark, too hot and barely breathing, feeling the comparatively cool air of the bedroom on his damp skin as he rooted around in his backpack for one of his orbs. He pulled out the pink one he'd gotten most recently.

"Yuuri...?" he asked, quietly and blearily. His voice shook involuntarily.

"Are you okay?"

"...Call me Vitya."

"Vitya... what happened? I felt this awful disturbance, I was worried my hold over the Shadow was slipping but that's not it. It's not dark, it's temporal. But I noticed your life-force flickering through our link and I wondered what you would be doing in the middle of the night to-"

"I've been having... dreams... They seem to tell me bits of likely futures, but like, in reverse order... The first one was you waking up and falling out of your magic cocoon into my arms... the second was about... skating the last routine and sealing the Shadow... this one was about the Shadow warriors trying to throw me off pattern and Yurio killing them." Viktor felt like he was becoming more coherent by the sentence.

"Who is Yurio?"

"The younger Victor. The one with the bob cut and the green eyes. He's been travelling with me." Viktor flipped the covers over the bed back down, flipped the pillow over, and lay on top of the comforter. He instantly felt more relaxed.

"I've seen him then. I just don't understand why that dream would make your life-force do anything, although I see now where the temporal rift came from..."

"I don't understand life-force in general, or magic for that matter. You don't do a lot of magic while fishing or figure skating."

Although he was pretty sure Yuuri couldn't smile physically, Viktor nevertheless heard the smile in his... voice? thoughts? whatever he was hearing through the soul orbs.

"Oh, um, Vik- Vitya. I want to tell you something, also... a-about what you told me the last time we spoke."

Viktor managed to stifle a groan, but couldn't stifle the ache in his chest.

"I love you, too."

Viktor bolted upright. "What?"

"L-last time you said 'I love you'? I wanted to return the favor because I couldn't last time and-"

"No, I don't mean that I just- I mean-" Viktor lept up and paced, soul orb in hand. "Yuuri. Yuuri, I was being impulsive when I said that, I didn't think you would ever love me. I spent at least a week beating myself up over it. I had an impossible time skating _Eros_ and _Agape_ because of it. And you're sitting here-"

"Um... sitting being a relative term, technically I'm floating in a magical stasis pod-"

"You're floating in a magical stasis pod here telling me that you _love me?"_

"Unless you don't want me to...?"

"Yuuri, of _course_ I want you to!" Viktor's nerves were really having a roller coaster ride of a night tonight. He was buzzing, bouncing on his toes, liable to run through the streets screaming _Yuuri loves me!_ any minute. "I'm just so happy, would you say that a few hundred more times and also etch it into my soul?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I don't know about the soul etching. I think I can do something special for you at your next trial, if you want."

"That sounds amazing, Yuuri!" Viktor stopped pacing energetically for a moment. "Um, I don't want to keep you, how much longer can you talk?"

"I've devised a slightly more efficient way of talking to you that uses your life-force as well as mine, and given how much yours is going off the rails right now, I can talk for some time if you want."

"I just don't think I'll be able to get any sleep now is all."

"Oh, I'm sorry..."

Viktor collapsed into the bed and put the soul orb by his shoulder. "Yuuri, don't be sorry, you're wonderful and I love you! It feels so good to be able to say that. I love you, Yuuri Katsuki."

"I love you, Viktor Nikiforov. You're right, it does feel nice."

"Can we do the little kid thing where you ask trivia about each other? I feel like I should know more about you."

"That sounds good, um, you first?"

"What's your favorite food?"

"Katsudon. Pork cutlets with eggs and rice. It's messy and unhealthy but absolutely delicious. Um, okay, why did you grow your hair so long?"

"I had a lot of girl friends growing up and they all had long hair, so I just sorta grew mine out too. We braided and styled each others' hair a lot. I wouldn't have cut it if I could have fit it into a hat at its previous length, but..."

"It was pretty before, but I think it looks nice short too."

Viktor ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back behind his ears. Yuuri made him blush. "Have you ever figure skated?"

"Yes, I love skating. It helps calm my nerves. I want to skate with you, I never used to skate with Philip..."

Viktor wanted to ask but decided against it. "I could make us a pair skate, if you want."

"That sounds amazing, Vitya."

There was a silence neither of them particularly wanted to break. Viktor stared up at the ceiling, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness now. The moonlight coming in through the small window made every small imperfection in the white ceiling noticeable, every grain in the wooden support beams visible.

"It's my turn, isn't it?" Yuuri asked quietly, after some time.

Viktor chuckled. "Yes."

"Tell me about your family?"

"My only family is my papa Yakov. He adopted me after my parents were taken. I never had any siblings that I know of. Yakov is great, but he's super strict. He's more right than I used to think he was, though. What about you, Yuuri?"

"With the caveat that they're all dead now, I _had_ an older sister, two loving parents, and a husband."

"Oh, Yuuri, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked..."

"It's okay, I've had four hundred years to cope. Let me tell you about them. Mari, my sister, was a lot like you. She was kind of laid back most of the time, but pretty impulsive also, and very determined. She was pretty and smart, a pretty good skater, an excellent sorcerer, and all-around a supportive sister. She would have made an excellent queen, had she gotten the chance. My mom and dad did a great job, they were a great pair. They had this air about them that made everyone like them. I've been told I have that too..."

"You do."

"You're biased."

"I am not! Why do you think I fell for you in the first place?"

"Honestly, I don't know... I'm not doing anything special, well I am, but that's only because it had to be done."

"Yuuri, you inspired me. Your constant vigilance and determination, your strength, helped me find mine. I had a lot of ability but nothing to do with it, I could have been Goddess's gift to figure skating but in that small fishing town it would have gone to waste. You gave me a purpose. I'm just honored to be able to fulfill it for you."

"Vitya, I love you..."

"I love you too, Yuuri. I'll never get used to saying that. The sun's coming up, I think I'll go practice now. I have the love to skate a sonnet."

"I'll be watching."

"I know."

* * *

Viktor hurried into his skating gear. He couldn't pull the spandex on quickly enough. He ran down the stairs to put his skates on, and Yurio greeted him at the bottom.

"What were you doing up there?" he asked with a glare. 

"I had a nightmare, then Yuuri talked to me again because of something to do with my life-force fluctuating or something, and Yurio, Yuuri loves me!"

"I knew it. I'm going back to bed." He turned around to leave. "Where are you going?"

"To the rink! I'm going to practice _On My Love_."

"Figures. I'll send Sara and Mila your way when they wake up."

Viktor skipped into the foyer and began lacing his skates. "Hey Viktor," he heard Yurio shout from the other room. 

"What?" he replied.

Yurio lowered his voice. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Yurio, that means a lot." He stood up and walked out the door, saying over his shoulder, "Have fun with Michele!"

"Damn sap," Yurio grumbled into his pillow before falling asleep again.

The streets were relatively empty, many filled only by the dawn sunlight. The scene was tranquil in a way that felt like a new beginning. Viktor's life felt like a new beginning. He smiled at the empty and mostly-empty buildings that lined the streets, smiled at lamp-posts and at the sky, smiled at everything that was there to be smiled at.

Feeling a few of the same _stop that it's weird_ impulses as if he were dancing in public, but not caring enough to stop, Viktor practiced some of his choreography. He practiced his intricate step sequence, hearing the dance of octaves in his head. Whenever someone skated by, he muted his movements but didn't stop. A few people stared, a young boy followed him in a trance for at least a block, and an elderly man beamed at him from the window of a cafe like his day had been made. He hit his ending pose at the edge of the rink and stopped. A young man with dark skin and short black hair applauded him, gloves muffling his claps.

"Can't wait to practice, huh? Me too. But you'd be better off doing that at the rink - the ice is better here."

"I've noticed." Viktor stepped onto the ice. "Hey, could I have the ice to myself for a few? Not right now, but in a little bit."

"Sure!" The man kept warming up his footwork elements as Viktor started warming up his. "So, are you that legendary hero I've been hearing about?"

"One legendary hero, at your service. I wasn't aware there were rumors." Viktor turned backwards and began warming up his jumps: a few singles, doubles, triples. A quad or two for good measure.

"Oh yeah, everyone's talking about the silver-haired man who skates like wind through falling snow. My assistants have been asking me if they can ask you for autographs."

Viktor skated over to the barrier to catch his breath, meeting the man there. "You're Mr. Choulanont, correct?"

"Yes, but call me Phichit! Sorry for not introducing myself." Phichit rubbed the back of his neck and smiled widely. 

"Do you always skate in the mornings?"

"Of course! Sound body, sound mind, right? Besides, this rink seems to help get my ideas flowing."

"May I visit you at the lab later? I would love to learn all about the advances this city has made in the past few hundred years while the rest of the world was back in the stone age. What, for an example, is this barrier made out of? How do the glowing signs in the shops work? What about the fairy lights and the paper cups?"

"In order: yes, you may, I love visitors; the barrier is made of plastic, a substance named for its properties and synthesized from polymers; the glowing signs are made by running electricity and/or magical energy through noble gases such as neon and argon; the fairy lights are magic-sensitive crystals lit by the will of those who put them up; the paper cups are made by layering what you know as paper together and compressing it to eliminate absorption." Phichit punctuated his monologue with a long sip from his water bottle. 

"I didn't understand a lot of that, but at least I have answers. Thank you, Phichit. Could I trouble you to leave the ice to me for a few minutes now?"

"Sure, my dude. Have fun." Phichit gave him a thumbs-up as he got off the ice.

* * *

Viktor skated into center ice. His heart raced as soon as he thought of Yuuri. He knew he had to skate a perfect program to pass the trial, but after last night, that felt more like a gift than an obligation. He would give his best skate, his heart and soul, to Yuuri. He knew that was what it would take.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself, focusing on the theme of the song. _On My Love._ Viktor's love had always felt muffled, undefined, and he'd never understood what love really meant to him. He'd never really understood what life meant to him either. Not until Yuuri.

He clicked his blades together just hard enough and took his starting position. The soft, swift melody of the beginning piano notes filled the air in waltz time, and Viktor brought his arms up in front of his chest. _This is all of me,_ Viktor thought. He moved to his left, skidding to a stop. He brought his arms over his head, staring into the lightening sky. _I give my everything to you, Yuuri._ He moved into an artistic sequence of crossovers interspersed with 3-turns and brackets. The second repeat was shorter, interrupted in the second-to-last measure by a high and a low chord in sequence. Quad toe - double toe combination. Viktor jumped so high on the quad that he thought he was floating for a moment in the middle. He trailed his steps around the end of the rink, a triple salchow on the end of the arpeggio. After that, a flying sit spin.

To contrast the quick pace of the song, Viktor had chosen to emphasize long, gliding steps and turns. These, highlighted by quick twizzles and jumps scattered throughout, emphasized the beautiful but unpredictable nature of love.

The violins came in slowly but surely and Viktor cut across the diagonal, his step sequence coming up. _Remember what Mila told you. Readjust your center._ Twizzle, counter, rocker, on one foot on the first three octaves. The violin was getting stronger, tugging at his heartstrings. Toe turn followed immediately by another cluster, on the other foot. Twizzle, outside loop, bracket. His body swayed to the music as it pulled him towards its melody. 

The end of the choreographic sequence was a break for Viktor most of the time. An edge into a lunge, trailing his hands down his chest. An outside spreadeagle into an Ina Bauer. This time, the emotions that had been bubbling up inside him finally spilled out from his eyes, and silver lashes batted glittering teardrops from his vision. He had to force himself to focus when the step sequence ended and he had to set up for his triple axel.

A few falling leaves on the high accents made Viktor feel like flying. He had so much energy and he was smiling like an idiot and oh there was a jump combination, triple lutz - triple toe, which he landed perfectly. A few more steps and cross rolls down the ice until his signiature move, the last jump in the program: the quad flip.

It would be over. He didn't want it to be over. He wanted to sing his heartsong to Yuuri forever. His legs and lungs burned but he didn't care. Pouring all his energy into every movement, Viktor set up for his final jump. Pull the shoulder back, pick, and-

* * *

_Viktor heard his rapid heartbeat in his ears. His vision had gone dark. The darkness resolved itself into a blur, the blurriness resolved itself into an outline of a face, and that face resolved itself into Yuuri._

_He was close, so close. And so beautiful. When he moved towards Viktor, his movements were fluid, not like the hesitant staggering from the dream. His red-brown eyes shone, his ears and cheeks and lips were flushed pink. Viktor reached up in awe to caress the side of his face, and Yuuri leaned into his touch. His skin was warm and soft._

_Yuuri's eyes closed slowly, his short dark lashes fluttering slightly. His blush deepened as he leaned in closer, lips parted slightly._ Is he doing what I think he is? _Viktor felt his face heat as he reciprocated Yuuri's actions. In a fraction of a moment they closed the space between them._

_Viktor thought he heard a soft, strong piano chord the moment their lips touched. A few more, getting faster, as his hands trailed into Yuuri's hair and Yuuri's found their way into his. Viktor was out of breath and his heart pounded in his throat but he didn't care. He kissed Yuuri like he knew nothing else until the other pulled away._

_"Vitya," he sighed through shining lips, "I love you..."_

* * *

The music overtook Yuuri's voice, cold swept across where Yuuri's warmth had been moments before, and Viktor fell out of his rotation and his trance on the right edge.

The quad flip was perfect. Viktor skated the rest of the program in a daze, vision blurred. When he did the final part of his final combination spin, looking up at his outstretched hand, he felt the tears stream down his hot cheeks, wetting his ears and hair. As the music came to a ritando, Viktor spread his arms, closed them in on himself, then brought his left hand out towards the doors, and the Eye, and Yuuri, like reaching for his hand.

The music ended and Viktor held his pose for a long second, breathing heavily, covered in sweat. His legs requested permission from his brain to collapse, and his brain, having no other orders to give them, acquiesced. Viktor fell like a dropped ragdoll onto the ice, numb to the cold and pain. He felt tears welling in his eyes for the third time and he had no reason this time to stifle them. He sobbed and dug his nails into his arms, choking out Yuuri's name.

Phichit skated over, surprised and worried and mystified all at once. Mila and Sara - when had they gotten here? - followed suit, concern etched into their brows.

After a few seconds of sobbing through their muffled questions, Viktor sniffled and sat up. He beamed at the three figures standing over him, drying his tears on his sleeve. "I did great, right?" he asked, voice shaking.

Yuuri's voice came as a surprise to all of them, and they turned to look at the doorway and the opening doors. Phichit looked amazed while Sara and Mila just looked confused. "You were wonderful, Vitya. I just wanted to surprise you as much as you've surprised me, and that was the only thing I could think of." 

"It worked." Viktor chuckled a little and wiped his eyes again. Between the melting ice and the tears, his clothes were getting thoroughly soaked.

There was a long silence while Viktor got up and collected himself, then walked into the room that didn't seem to exist in spacial reality, collected a few small things from inside, and walked back out.

"I have so many questions," Phichit said.

Viktor smiled and held up a hand in weak protest. "Later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will feature some Yuuri, Viktor, and Phichit shenanigans. Also, Yurio will get another POV, for much longer this time, as he learns about the ways of a soldier from Michele/Otabek. Please look forward to it!


	10. Trial 8, Part 2: Shifting Golden Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio (Victor) spends two days with Otabek. He and Michele get the help of their friend Anastasia to teach Victor how to fight, both on and off ice. That night, Victor and Otabek go outside the barrier surrounding Kamyinsk, against the advice of Otabek's friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so one of the OCs in this story (Anastasia) is my sister. Her URL on Tumblr is @anastasialestina, and she's AWESOME. I tried to capture it in the story, but seriously, she's way cooler IRL. Here's a link to her and our brother Ben skating their Intermediate Pairs Free Program at U.S. Nationals: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9vqU-quMZSo
> 
> The version of Agape that Otabek plays is based off this beautiful cover by Rolelush: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kbqXzh2OSOg

Victor roused himself and checked the mechanical clock on the wall. He was figuring out how to read it. One of the rotating sticks, the shorter one which Victor had found indicated the hour, was halfway between the numerals 9 and 10. The other stick, the longer one which Victor had assumed indicated some fraction of the hour, most likely a minute, neared the numeral 6. He had designated his meeting with Michele for 1000, so he fetched two slices of bread and headed out the door. 

He didn't know where Mila, Sara, and Viktor had gone. Viktor probably passed his trial, and Victor remembered him saying he was going to the royal lab to talk to the head scientist. Maybe he was there.

The streets were crowded but skateable. Victor noticed a few people giving him sideways glances. _Do they think I'm the other Viktor?_ He tried to ignore them as he made his way to the guards' station on the outskirts of town - not the southern edge where they had arrived but the eastern one. The guards' station was a sizeable building, more metal than wood, and three or four stories. It took up most of a block. Through windows on the first floor he saw guards in skin-tight black outfits and high-heeled black boots practicing complicated movements with staffs.

Victor pushed open the wooden door and said "I'm here to see Michele" to the first guard he saw. That guard nodded and disappeared through a doorway to the far right end of the room. A minute later Michele came down with him, wearing one of the black uniforms. 

"Victor, hey." The corners of Michele's mouth turned up slightly, which seemed to be the closest thing to a smile that he could pull off without facial strain. "This is my friend Otabek, he'll be helping me to train you."

Otabek was similarly stone-faced, shorter—about Victor's height—but much more toned, with light brownish skin and dark hair swept back with an undercut. His eyes were dark and piercing, and he looked like he was sizing Victor up. _Two can play at that game,_ Victor thought, and gave Otabek an equally piercing stare in return as he held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Otabek."

It was barely visible, but Otabek flinched slightly, looking just a little impressed. He shook Victor's hand; Victor made sure to match his grip, not breaking eye contact.

Michele, oblivious to the nonverbal exchange that had just occurred, turned back toward the doorway, motioning for the others to follow him. "We're going to the fourth floor, it'll give us the most space."

Victor and Otabek did in fact follow him. Behind the door was a stairwell, and Otabek started up the stairs faster than Victor, so Victor took the next few steps quickly, passing Otabek by a single stair. Otabek took his next two steps quickly in response. They glanced briefly at each other from the corners of their eyes, and Victor thought he saw Otabek smirk. 

They reached the top stair at the exact same moment and followed Michele down a hall to a room at the end. Victor was finding this Otabek person very interesting indeed. Maybe he could ask him to lunch later, or dinner.

The room was spacious, with a hard floor and mostly bare walls. There was a tall basket in the corner that contained what looked to be swords, as well as another, shorter one containing staffs of various sizes. Neither Michele nor Otabek grabbed anything from either basket, they simply stood in the center of the room and waited for Victor.

Confused but not about to show it, Victor stood in front of them, silent but with a confident stance.

"We're going to learn how to fight without weapons before we learn to fight with them," Michele said as if doing so was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Victor considered responding but decided against it, simply nodding. _Get this over with so we can start with the swords,_ he thought.

"We're going to start with something called the Heaven 6. It's a system of six strikes, in between each you're defending yourself." Michele balled his fists and formed an L with his forearms, left fist under right elbow. "This is your starting position. You can easily pull this into a defense if necessary-" he pulled his arms up so his left covered his forehead "-but for now this is just our starting position. Your first strike comes out this way-" he punched forward with his right fist, pulling it back so that his arms were on top of each other "-and comes back to this defensive position."

Victor put his arms into the starting position Michele had demonstrated. It felt odd, too brittle to be a performance but not aggressive enough to feel like a means of combat. He tried his first punch and it felt like the first step to an awkward but elaborate dance.

"Your second and third are backhands, like this." Michele took his left arm out from under his right, striking the air forwards with the back of his hand, bringing it up so his forearm was vertical and slightly to the left of his right fist. He stopped to let Victor try it, and when he did apparently well enough, he resumed, punching with the back of his right hand and bringing it under his left elbow. "Now you're back to your starting position; your next three are the mirror image of your first."

Otabek, who had been entirely silent so far, then spoke up. "Perhaps we should give a demonstration of the effectiveness of this technique before we proceed." _How does he read me so well?_ Victor thought, narrowing his eyes at Otabek just slightly. Additionally, the man's voice was low and rich, like a purr. And he had some accent sort of like Victor's own, but sort of not at all like it. Even in his own head, Victor was aware of how little sense that made.

Michele nodded, turning to face Otabek, who took a gentile step back and nodded towards Michele. Before Victor had time to process much of anything, Michele's arms began moving at a lighting pace, cycling through what Victor's mind couldn't quite process were the same movements he had just been shown. Otabek hardly waited a moment before hurling punches at Michele, haphazardly but with significant strength. Michele absorbed or blocked every punch. "If I had a weapon," Otabek said, taking a large step back and motioning for Michele to stop, "he could easily disarm me with this technique as well."

Victor raised an eyebrow. He was impressed, but he would play devil's advocate anyway. "How do I know Michele's not just stronger than you are, Beka?" He hadn't meant to give him a pet name, where did that even come from? It took all Victor's emotional strength just to suppress the flush of embarrassment threatening to color his cheeks.

Otabek glanced briefly at Michele, and this time the brunet man took a step backwards. Otabek began his Heaven 6, moving perhaps even faster than Michele. Not willing to let his friend's strength be insulted, Michele not only punched but kicked at Otabek, who flawlessly utilized the defensive stances Michele had just shown Victor. After a minute, they nonverbally communicated that they were finished, and stepped away.

Victor knew his eyes were probably sparkling with excitement now, and he didn't care. "Please show me how to do that!"

Otabek definitely smirked. "Most certainly."

* * *

Victor totally lost track of time. He had perfected his Heaven 6 empty-handed and learned how to disarm someone with a knife or dagger. He learned kicks and strikes and was learning how to fight using sticks when they were interrupted.

"Otabek, Michele, take a break. It's lunchtime." A curvy, muscular girl with long, dark hair and bangs stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Unlike Michele and Otabek, her uniform was white like her boots.

"Hey Ana. Thanks, we'll be down in a minute."

Victor gave Michele a questioning look. "That's Anastasia, a friend of ours," he said. "She's the resident expert at fighting on skates. Nicest girl I've ever met, but also has a death glare like nothing you've ever seen before if you somehow end up on her bad side."

"A veritable master of the spear and staff," Otabek added. He collected Victor's sticks and placed them in the basket with his own.

"Why am I not learning from her?"

"You will be this afternoon. After lunch."

Victor and Otabek didn't race down the stairs the way they'd raced up them, just perambulating to the main floor. When they arrived, they found the amount of guards who would be expected to take up most of the building, sitting cross-legged on the floor in groups and chatting over steaming bowls of what looked like soup.

They rounded a corner and saw several guards behind the serving hatch, handing bowls out to others. Victor grabbed a bowl first. There were thick noodles in a dark broth, bits of vegetables and greenery interspersed throughout. It smelled like beef and it had a pair of black chopsticks sticking out.

Michele and Otabek fetched their bowls and sat on the floor with them next to Ana and one other person, seemingly a friend of Ana's. 

"Who's this?" Ana's compatriot asked, gesturing towards Victor.

"This is Victor Nikiforov. He asked us to teach him to fight, so we've set aside today to do that. Victor, you met Ana, this is Sky."

Sky was both very muscular and quite fat, perpetually smiling, with dark brown skin and hair that came down to their waist, seemingly enveloping them. Their uniform was grey and their eyes were the vibrant blue of the clear afternoon sky. "Are you one of the cooks?" Victor asked.

"Everyone cooks," Ana replied. "But no, Sky fights too. They're one of the strongest people we have."

"I wouldn't say that," Sky said with a shrug. "Are you that legendary hero I've been hearing about?"

Victor finished his bite of noodles and shook his head. "I'm his bodyguard."

"Dush sho cool!" Sky exclaimed through a mouthful of noodles and veggies. They swallowed and continued. "Why did you come here?"

_I thought I was the hero of legend, because I was born at the right time and I was a great figure skater. Well, Chris thought I was, anyway, so he pushed me to follow my "destiny". All I did was believe him. Then I met the real hero, kind of hated his guts, had a very brief existential crisis, realized I don't hate him that much actually, figured out that I kind of cared for the doofus, decided I wanted to help him but wasn't sure how, and then figured out that he has absolutely no idea how to fight._ "I wanted to learn how to protect my friend."

"That's sweet," Ana said quietly. "A lot of people here joined because of hatred, I'm glad somebody else came here because of love."

"Psh, I wouldn't call it love. We do a heck of a lot of arguing most of the time."

"Ana and I argue all the time, that doesn't mean we don't love each other. Honestly, if you never argue with someone, you don't communicate well enough to have a real relationship with them." Sky shrugged as if they hadn't said anything particularly consequential and went back to slurping down their noodles.

"I'm also pretty sure he cares far too much about Yuuri and doesn't have room for anyone else."

"Wait, Yuuri like Katsuki Yuuri like the Prince?" Sky leaned forward excitedly and Victor scooted slightly backwards. 

"Yeah, they just..." he replied. _Viktor just said "I love you" when he knew Yuuri couldn't respond and then immediately took that as if Yuuri had responded "well I don't" and was moping for like three weeks and he visibly winces to this day whenever Yuuri is brought up_. "They don't get to talk much."

Victor saw that in the time he'd been talking with Sky, Michele, Ana, and Otabek had finished their noodles, and subsequently wolfed down the rest of his bowl and followed them, waving an unintentionally curt goodbye to Sky, who didn't seem to mind.

The four walked out a back door and found a walled-in ice rink, like a backyard. Otabek handed Victor a pair of the boots the rest of them wore, and he was very confused. "What do you expect me to do with these?"

"Put them on," Otabek replied.

"How will that help? These are just boots, not skates." He glanced toward Michele, who was standing on the ice. Wait, how had he laced his skates that fast? And where had he done it?

"They transform magically into skates when you step onto the ice. Because there are both ice and solid ground within the city limits, the royal scientists created a spell to transfigure a skate back and forth. If you have a pair of skates I'm sure they could do that to yours."

Victor finished lacing his boots, finding them surprisingly comfortable. He stepped onto the ice and found that they transformed so effortlessly he didn't even notice they'd changed until he started gliding. Victor suppressed a giggle but not the accompanying smile. _This is awesome,_ he thought. _I love magic._

Similar to the room he had trained with Michele and Otabek in, the rink had two baskets at its side: one with swords and one with staffs. 

Ana skated out in front of them, skidding to a stop. Her hazel eyes, which Victor had found were permanently half-lidded, turned from warm and brownish to bright green and orange as she explained. "The key to fighting on ice is to make precise use of the blades on your skates. Ideally, you never more than graze your enemy. Instead, you make them scared to come close to you. The real weapons, you keep in your hands."

_Of course you don't attack people with skate blades. They're not sharp enough to do any real damage and it would be worse for you than for your opponent because you'd be functionally stuck._

"The kicks and moves you learned off-ice will be helpful, but you know there's a different set of physics on ice. A decent portion of your moves will involve something like a fly. Otabek, can I demonstrate?"

Otabek nodded and stood a short distance from Ana. Before Victor knew what was happening, Ana sped into something resembling a fly but backward to forward instead of forward to backward. Her skate came right between his chin and collarbone, blade a few inches from his skin. Victor flinched visibly but was nonetheless impressed.

"First off, how high can you jump? I can teach you the technique but unless your legs can jump high enough there's not a lot I can do."

Victor pulled crossovers around a tight circle and did his best quad: the toe loop. He was sure he got nearly half a meter off the ice, but he was sure Ana had gotten higher. He skated back over.

Ana raised her eyebrow slightly. "That was good! But you're probably not going to use any of that stuff about rotation or landing on one foot. If landing on two feet doesn't compromise your efficiency, by all means do it."

"You landed on one foot earlier," Victor pointed out.

Ana nodded. "The full version of the move, where you ward off a sizeable amount of enemies, goes like this." She did exactly as she had earlier—a quasi-fly backward to forward—but then she repeated it, forward to backward, then again, and again. She seemed to get enough speed from the takeoff (which she did on two feet, picking with one and digging into her edge with the other) to do it indefinitely. She looked like a terrifying windmill of ice and metal.

She skated back over to Victor. "You can vary the height of the jump as well as the depth and length of each edge in order to reach multiple targets. It's also possible to do this on land with limited difference in the physics, so you can hop off the ice while doing this and fluidly move into other things if necessary."

"Now, let's try it. Let's do the forward one first, because though you don't start that way, you already know how to do flying spins, so it should be easier for you."

Victor nodded and tried to do a fly without the spin. His rotation left him spinning out on two feet. "That was an excellent fly, but you actually want your legs to be uneven. Your body in an ideal fly is horizontal to the ice, but did I look horizontal?"

Victor shook his head. "No, you were sort of diagonal. One leg dramatically below the other."

"Exactly. If you're attacked during a proper fly, you're pulled from your rotation and you fall on your face. If you're attacked during a falling kick, you can just put your lower foot down and get back over your center. It looks awkward, but you don't get points for being pretty in combat."

Ana brushed her bangs aside, though they weren't in her eyes to begin with. A little fidget, Victor assumed, like when he tucked his hair behind his ears even when it was tied up and there was no hair to tuck. "Falling in a performance is bad, but falling in a battle can easily be deadly. Whatever you do, you have to stay on your feet. Don't worry about looking good, worry about keeping your footing and your timing."

"Timing?" Victor asked.

"Otabek and Michele didn't tell you about timing?" She gave the two a sidelong glance.

They raised their hands in surrender at the same time, Michele looking much more visibly terrified. "We forgot."

"You're going to get him killed," she said through gritted teeth, going full-on death glare, her eyes turning red-orange. Victor understood what Michele had said earlier about her death glare; he found himself shuddering and he wasn't even the target. _Jeez, she is intense._

A moment later, she turned to Victor and picked up where she had left off, just as confident and sweet as before, as if nothing had happened. "The Shadow is exceedingly bad at what humans think of as intuitive timing. That's why all the fighting techniques you learned were done to a count, like music." She did what Victor now thought of as a _slow_ Heaven 6, counting out 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 on her right hand. "The Shadow learns quickly, although it retains almost nothing. The most effective method in combat is to use a certain timing until it stops being useful, then trade it for a new one. Being able to read the Shadow is a skill attained only by doing battle with it, though."

Victor's brow furrowed. _That means if I want to learn I need to find actual Shadow followers. And learn fast enough to fight them without getting killed. That feels way too high-pressure to be legit._ "How did you learn?"

"I went outside the city at dusk with a more experienced guard and she watched my back while I learned," Ana replied.

"Could you do that for me?"

"No, but Otabek can."

Victor looked at Otabek. "Is that true?"

Otabek nodded with raised eyebrows, his espression saying _yes, but I'm being humble about it._ Victor really wanted to learn more about this guy. He'd spent all of lunch chatting with Sky, but now he could make that up.

"Great, let's do it. I'll meet you at the south end at dusk."

"Viktor, you have only been in training for one day. Not even that much. Are you sure you can handle it? We spend months training new recruits before we let them do this." Michele was like Otabek in that he didn't emote a lot, but he still had a wider range of emotions than _chill_ and _slightly smug but in a humble way_. He was clearly worried.

"Roughly what percentage of our new recruits walk in the door with a quadruple toe loop," Otabek said. It wasn't a question. Victor shot him a look, something like _are you defending me?_ He shot Victor one back that said _yes, I am._

"...None. Fine, Otabek, have it your way. If he gets killed it's on your record."

Either Victor was getting better at picking up on Otabek's little smirks, or Otabek cared progressively less about hiding them. Victor wasn't sure which possibility he liked more.

Victor worked with Ana for several more hours, taking a break to eat dinner. It was a different variety of basically noodles with veggies, equally delicious. Then Otabek told him to take a nap so he could stay up.

"Where do I sleep?" Victor asked. 

"Where have you been sleeping?" Otabek countered. They were skating away from the guards' station slowly, mostly gliding with only the occasional half-assed push.

"With some nice ladies we met yesterday. But I don't want to bother them by asking everyone to be quiet so I can sleep on their couch in the middle of the afternoon."

Otabek seemed to consider this for a time, then he said, "You can sleep at my house. I will be sleeping 'in the middle of the afternoon' as well."

Victor blinked a few times. It seemed Otabek was serious. "Thank you" came out of his mouth before he thought about it.

Otabek nodded and began to skate faster, leading the way. Victor followed numbly.

* * *

Otabek's house was small, mainly wood, with a shingled roof on top of a single story. He unlocked the door and unlaced his boots at the entrance to the living room. There was a small stool there, but he wasn't using it. Victor took the hint and sat on the stool himself.

Victor usually hated when people called small, cramped spaces "cozy" in an attempt to make the smallness seem like a good thing, but as he looked around at Otabek's living space, that was the only word which came to mind. A low couch sat in the corner by a bookshelf, a small end table with a lamp on it on the couch's other side. Opposite the couch was the entrance to the kitchen, beside that sat a small piano with some complicated-looking sheet music on it. Beside that was an entrance to a hallway with two visible closed doors.

"You play piano?" Victor asked, remarking on the most remarkable part of the scene.

Otabek nodded. "I've found it's relaxing, and it helps me maintain my sense of timing." He walked over to his couch, pulled his shirt off, and fell onto it. Victor very deliberately did _not_ stare at his chiseled abs.

"Hey, aren't I sleeping there?"

"Why would you be? The bedroom is that way." Otabek gestured down the hall.

"That's your bedroom," Victor said, starting to get exasperated.

"You're the guest."

"It's your bed!"

"I want you to be most comfortable."

"With the exception of last night, Beka, I'm used to sleeping on the ground. Frequently in the snow or rain. And if you don't sleep in your own bed I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Why?" Otabek's already purr-like voice became quiet. He seemed, for the first time, genuinely confused. 

"Because I don't want to be a burden."

"You're not. Victor... or should I say Yurio...? I've met you before."

It was Victor's voice that was quiet now. "...When?"

"Your circus came through my home town a few years ago. Your hair was shorter then, and blond like gold. But what I most remember of you is your eyes. You have the unforgettable eyes of a soldier."

"A... soldier..." Victor echoed, sitting on the arm of the couch. He was flattered, impressed, but confused how Otabek had remembered all this time. What had he done that was so memorable? He was just like every other circus performer. Perhaps a little better at ballet; was that it?

Again Otabek seemed to read his mind. "I got the date wrong and came to the circus the day before it started, and I saw you practicing. Your dance was beautiful, and I watched until you left the ring to go backstage. It seemed a shame that the next day you would wear makeup and a fancy dress, you looked excellent without any of that. I went backstage, carefully. I spoke to you for a short time and I knew in that moment how much we had in common."

There was a pause. Otabek seemed to be finished with his explanation, but Victor wanted more. After an expectant look got him nowhere, Victor asked, "What do you think we have in common?"

"You are driven and ambitious. You know what you want and you know how to achieve it, and it's the world's job to get out of your way. You know no limits, you have no boundaries, and you thrive on challenge." Otabek sat up against the opposite arm of the couch to meet Victor's eyes. "You also have a difficult time forming meaningful relationships and you're frequently angry." He gave a trademark smirk. "Sound familiar?"

Victor slid into the couch, facing Otabek. He didn't have anything to say to that. "How did you know that Chris called me Yurio?"

"I asked."

Victor stared, not directly at Otabek, but in his general direction, for a long time. There was so much he wanted to ask but couldn't quite articulate. Otabek was generally mysterious to him. A rival, but an exceedingly friendly one. Or just a competitive friend? An experienced fighter, perhaps an experienced figure skater. Or just someone knowledgeable in the area? And what did he really see in Victor, back then and right now?

Otabek seemed to be similarly studying Victor. Was he wondering any of the same things Victor was? What was going on inside his head? "Do you want to share my bed?"

"What?" The question had snapped Victor from his thoughts.

"Do you want to share my bed."

"Why?" Victor didn't think _why would I do that, you're basically a complete stranger,_ only _why_. Because Otabek didn't feel like a complete stranger, though he veritably was.

"You said you didn't want me to sleep anywhere else, I know I don't want you to sleep anywhere else, so the obvious solution is for both of us to sleep there." Otabek stood and walked toward the bedroom, and Victor followed numbly.

The bedroom was sizeable, wider than it was long, and mostly taken up by workout equipment. The bed was simple, barely big enough for two, covered with a dark blue blanket that looked like it would be immensely soft to wrap up in.

Victor walked over to the right side hesitantly, crawling under the covers. Politely, he turned away from Otabek's side. From the corner of his eye, he saw Otabek pulling dark curtains over the window. He felt the mattress give under Otabek's weight when he sat down. He had slept with Viktor before, but for some reason sleeping around the same soul orb felt different than sleeping in the same bed. It shouldn't, possibly, but it did.

Otabek didn't seem to be laying in any way differently than he normally would, and Victor seemed to be the only one preventing them from touching. Victor heard Otabek's breathing slow. Could he really fall asleep that easily? 

Victor really was kind of uncomfortable trying to prevent any contact between himself and Otabek, but he didn't want to invade the other's personal space. So he just lay there, trying to sleep cramped up against the edge of the bed, until Otabek's hand grabbed his hip and pulled him over. "You're going to fall off the bed," Otabek mumbled. "That cannot be comfortable."

"I didn't want to bother you," Victor whispered into Otabek's chest; he had been flipped entirely over and he was now pressed against Otabek's side.

"Yurio," Otabek's voice was quiet but firm, "when will you understand that you would have to try much harder than that to bother me."

Victor curled closer to Otabek. Otabek was warm and comfortable, and he wrapped his arm around Victor. "And, Beka?"

"Mm?"

"Please call me Victor." His voice was nearly a whisper, but Otabek seemed to have heard him.

Victor nestled into Otabek's bare chest as the other wrapped his spare arm around him to pull the blanket up over his shoulders. Victor fell asleep to the sound of Otabek's heartbeat.

* * *

Victor awoke to the reds and pinks of sunset and a delicate melody. He sat up and noticed that the bed beside him was empty but meticulously re-made. His side had been left askew, probably because making a bed with a person in it is somewhat difficult, so he got up and made it out of courtesy before he walked out of the bedroom.

The room was bathed in sunset colors, even more so than the bedroom because of the larger windows. The furniture cast long shadows across the floor Otabek was sitting at the piano, quietly playing something that sounded traditional. At first, Victor didn't recognize it, due to the huge difference in instruments, but then he played a sequence of chords and his mind instinctively filled in the lyrics, _honorabo, laborabo, gratias agam._ It was _On Love: Agape._

Otabek didn't seem to notice Victor as he made his way into the living space and sat down on the couch. Victor watched Otabek's strong hands dance on the piano, each finger moving down its key like a caress. Victor sat there and watched, entranced, until Otabek played the last rolling chord.

"Hello, Victor." He turned around on the piano bench, looking over his shoulder.

Victor smiled. "Hey Beka."

"We should get some food before we begin training." Otabek stood and walked around the corner to the kitchen. "What would you like?"

"I don't know." That was a lie. Victor knew exactly what he wanted. When he and Viktor went through the market the other day, they had pirozhki with a pork and rice filling. But he didn't know how to make it and he didn't want to make Otabek buy him stuff.

"I made some pirozhki yesterday, I can heat them for you."

Victor's breath hitched. "T-that sounds amazing, thank you." He stood and wandered into the kitchen, where Otabek was placing frozen but nevertheless delicious-looking golden-brown pirozhki on a metal tray. He put them into a sizeable metal box and closed the glass door, turning a few little black dials on the top and then walking towards Victor.

There was a small wooden table against the wall of the kitchen, with two chairs at it. Otabek pulled Victor's chair out for him before sitting down. "Victor," he said, "You look like you have many questions."

_This time you're wrong, Beka. I don't have questions, I have a feeling I can't articulate. You mean so much to me and I know so little about you. I want to spend more time with you but I'm not sure how to ask, and from the little I know, you seem to feel the same way and I'm not sure why. I'm not the kind of person who falls in love that quickly, but what do you call a platonic crush?_ "I guess I just don't know a lot of things about you."

"I was born in Almanty, I have two brothers and a sister, I grew up figure skating, I am terrible at ballet. I am an exceptional lancer and horseback rider-"

"No, I don't mean random facts, I mean, random facts are good, but I mean, how did you get here, why, what do you see in me, is it the same as what I see in you..."

"You want to develop a meaningful relationship and you wish to know whether I want the same thing."

Victor nodded, not sure how Otabek continued to know exactly what Victor wanted to say and then said it better than Victor ever could. 

Otabek had no sooner drawn breath to speak when a ding came from the little metal contraption, and Otabek got up to attend to it. He was in the kitchen, back to Victor, for a short time, fishing things from cabinets and portioning things. He brought back two plates full of pirozhki, setting one at each place at the table.

Victor was quiet while he picked one up, blew on it to cool it off a little. The crust was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, the outer edge rolled and pressed flat so Victor could hold onto the pirozhok from there. He bit into it and found it had a rich, creamy flavor, containing some smoothly-textured fish complemented by veggies and spices. He wanted to exclaim how amazing these were, but he kept silent, hoping Otabek would take the hint and pick up the conversation where they'd left off. Then he would compliment Otabek's amazing cooking.

Otabek did in fact take the hint. "I do want a meaningful relationship with you, Victor. Of what variety I'm unsure. I'm aware that I will have to decide before you leave, and you will likely leave tomorrow. I'm unsure what I will do after you do leave, because it's likely I won't see you again for years."

Victor hadn't thought about that, but it was true. His time was limited because Viktor's time was limited. He realized then, as he picked up another pirozhok, that he had a decision, a decision he didn't want to make. He could continue his journey with Viktor, or he could stay in Kamyinsk with Otabek. He considered as he ate. The logical choice was obvious: Viktor needed him as a bodyguard and as a friend, and occasionally as a coach. He had known Viktor for... he couldn't point to exactly how long, but months at least. He just met Otabek this morning. And yet his emotions pulled him in the opposite direction. He wanted to stay with Otabek.

"I'm having to make a difficult choice," Victor said at last. "I can either go with my friend or I can stay with you. My friend needs me but..."

"What do you _want_ to do?"

"I want... to eat with you. Pirozhki. I want you to teach me everything you know. I want to sleep with you every night and I want to hear you play piano every morning."

"There is a way that could happen." Otabek's gaze was fierce, determined.

Victor blinked, lowering the remainder of his pirozhok to his plate. "How?"

"I could come with you."

Victor was shocked. He raised his voice without meaning to, "You can't-"

Otabek cut him off, his voice even louder. "Victor, stop saying you'll inconvenience me as if that is the end of the world! I know you don't think it's true, because you won't allow yourself to believe it, but other people are perfectly capable of caring for you just as you care for them." 

Victor was silent, slowly eating the last few bites of his last pirozhok. When he finished, Otabek gathered both their plates and placed them in the sink. His gaze was still sharp as the edge of a blade whenever he glanced in Victor's direction. He returned to the table, made a gesture that would have been unclear if Victor had not already known exactly what they were doing next, and Victor followed him to the front door. They laced their boots in silence, Victor taking the stool without Otabek needing to prompt him. They stepped out the front door and into the chill twilight air, and Victor took in the sights in an almost literally new light. _I'll have to leave all this behind tomorrow,_ he thought. He was only broken from his trance when Otabek's fingers brushed his.

"May I?" he asked, quietly. Not because he was worried anyone would overhear—there weren't many people out now, and even if they were, who would object—but because he seemed shy. How could Otabek be shy?

Victor nodded and Otabek grasped his hand. Victor squeezed Otabek's in return. 

They headed slowly toward the southern end of town, the light in the sky gradually diminishing until there was only moonlight, which was soon washed out in artificial lamplight. Victor watched Otabek as he led the way. Had he really been serious about leaving all this behind just to be with him? Victor had dropped everything to follow Viktor around because he really hadn't had that much to drop. Otabek had a home and friends and a life.

They met Ana skating towards the south end. She didn't comment on their clasped hands, just talked about fetching them weapons and wished them luck.

Victor and Otabek stood at the edge to the barrier. Victor's left hand held Otabek's and his right held the handle of a green-bladed shortsword. He stared out into the night, terrified and excited and determined all at once, a weight beneath his ribs but a fire in his chest. His veins were pumped full of gasoline and he was liable to explode any moment.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Otabek asked, gesturing to the magenta barrier that encircled the city. Victor nodded, brought his sword above his head and cut a slit in the barrier that stretched into an ovular doorway. Otabek squeezed Victor's hand and they stepped through at the same moment.

Victor could have sworn the barrier made a popping noise as it sealed itself back up the instant they were all the way through. 

The very presence of the overwhelming darkness sped Victor's heartbeat, pulling his mix of emotions away from excitement and towards fear. He had never been in close proximity with it and not felt anxious. He had grown up in fear of the night and though he knew intellectually that he had all the skills to defeat it now, and that if in any capacity he was lacking, Otabek was there to protect him, he still felt afraid. Otabek took a step forward, beginning to walk past the barrier, and it took Victor a long moment to follow. Otabek gave him a long glance. _Are you ready?_ it said. Victor nodded, forcing himself to move forward at a normal gait, and they walked forward until they were swallowed in darkness.

The glow of their weapons was the only light for hundreds of feet when Victor first heard the Shadow move. Otabek squeezed his hand and they both stopped. It was somewhat of a noise, like a whoosh, somewhat of a feeling, like a chilling breath across his face, and somewhat just like an inherent knowledge. Victor let go of Otabek's hand to clasp the handle of his sword in both hands. And in that moment, a void stepped out from the shadows to greet him. 

It was darker than dark, a void outlined in the blackness. Victor's eyes tried to avoid it, it was like they kept slipping off it.

"That is a scout," Otabek said to an audible rhythm, like reciting poetry. "It is looking and scoping you out."

Victor simply nodded. He lifted his sword, stepped forward in preparation to strike, but the figure melded back into the shadow before he could complete his swing. He sighed in frustration.

"It will send more in a moment," Otabek said to the same rhythm as before.

Victor heard a low, strong note this time, vibrating with no discernible rhythm. He wasn't quite sure whether he heard it or not, or whether he heard the high note that accompanied it. It was more of an association than a real sound, because his eyes couldn't process what they were seeing.

The figures were malformed-looking, wrongly proportioned, that same void-black but with pale faces with red streaks from forehead to chin over where the eyes would be, if there were eyes. There were not; there were only voids. Victor's breath hitched and his chest contracted involuntarily. His brain didn't even get to articulate the last two words of _what the heck_ before one of the figures lunged at him.

He pulled into his defensive stance quickly enough to deflect the shadow—Victor wasn't sure whether it had used its fist or a blunt weapon—but he didn't land a blow; his sword he held uselessly off to the side in one fist. When he tried to swing it back around, that shadow jumped out of his way and another came up from behind.

Then Victor remembered what Ana had told him. _Timing. Count._ Before his brain could consider his options, he simply picked 2/4 time and counted 1-and-2-and as he stepped sidways to dodge, turned around, and swung his sword in the direction he assumed the other shadow would be. He heard an awful, high-pitched screech, which he knew this time was actually audible because his eyes could comprehend what they saw just fine: the face or mask of the shadow was melting and fracturing and dissipating into nothingness. He glanced at Otabek, who gave a small, approving smile.

Then he felt the presence of two more shadows—he had given up on trying to describe which of his senses noticed this presence—and he counted out his motions to the same beat.

_1-_ Victor stepped forward, pulling his blade forward,

_-and-_ he turned around the ball of his foot, sword in two hands, moving like a pivot,

_-2-_ the first shadow was caught off guard and he heard the screech as his blade carved a line across what might be called its chest,

_-and-_ the second shadow tried to move out of the way but Victor moved fluidly forward out of his pivot and stabbed it where a human's heart would be. He stepped backward towards Otabek, smiling. 

Victor had only let his eyes shut for a moment, barely a blink, when he felt a hot burning sensation across his shoulder. The fire in his chest returned with full force and with the hand that was not presently clasping his wound he swung his sword towards the shadow. The wound was not bleeding, but festering with a void-like blackness darker than his clothes and darker than the darkness around them. It seared like it had been pressed against a poker. Victor struggled to make himself focus and counted out loud through gritted teeth: "One, two-" he breathed out shakily, "One, two..." His sword missed the shadow each time, and he watched in what felt like slow motion as the shadow brought its blade down upon him-

A high scream filled Victor's ears as he saw the pale mask two inches from his nose begin collapsing in on itself. Otabek's spear made a popping noise like a cork from a bottle when he pulled it from the creature's side. Victor's eyes filled with tears involuntarily and he wiped them on the sleeve of his free arm.

"You alright?" Otabek said, in 3/4 time this time.

_Stupid. I didn't change timing fast enough; that's why I was hit._ Victor nodded. 

"Touch your wound with your blade. It'll eliminate the shadow's curse."

Victor did as Otabek said and sighed with relief when the pain dissipated into what might normally be expected from a cut. He was brought back from his pain-free trance when he felt the presence of another shadow.

_1-2-3-_ he focused on counting out his strike. The shadow's blade met his, and he pulled it off its striking pattern. He took that opening as an opportunity to leap forward, a longer distance than he knew the shadow could move in time, and stab. - _4-5-6._ The noise that came from the dying shadow was all the satisfaction he needed.

"Victor," Otabek said, worry in his voice, still talking in 3/4 time, "there are far more coming than I expected. You have handled them well so far but I believe there may be even more."

"I can handle it," Victor replied unthinkingly, readying his sword again, reverting to his prior stance. _More than he expected? Why would there be more? What about me is speci-_ Victor turned towards Otabek. "Beka, I think they think I'm..." He made a hand gesture he felt signified Viktor pretty well—he held his hands in a heart shape over his mouth—but Otabek didn't seem to understand. When Victor figured that out, he tried to verbally clarify. "The other one."

This time Otabek did seem to get it, but it didn't ease any of his worry. Actually, unless Victor was misinterpreting, Otabek's face took on an expression of _goddess help us_. It was not terribly reassuring.

"...Should we head back?" Victor asked. He didn't feel any more shadows approaching, which felt eerie. Had they gone to regroup? Was that even a thing shadows did?

Otabek's expression shifted between concern and consideration for a few moments before settling in determination. "No."

Victor was confused about the rapid change of emotions, but he didn't want to talk too much just in case more shadows showed up. He wasn't used to being anywhere near this on-edge. It was like the feeling of bobbling on a tightrope in front of a crowd, but all the time instead of in a single moment. He tried his hardest to pull his heart rate down to something resembling normal as he glanced around when his vision whited out.

* * *

_Victor sat on a stone on the opposite side of the fire from Viktor, sharpening his sword. It would only be an hour till dawn, the stars were burning out every minute. Viktor and Yuuri were talking through their mysterious link, Viktor listening intently._

_"What did he say?" Victor asked._

_"The Shadow followers are going to walk on the ice and try to get me off pattern."_

Nothing new then. Just kill all the bad guys. Been there, done that. _"Then I guess I just have to kill them before they can get to you."_

_"Yuuri, will a sword even kill a Shadow warrior?" Viktor asked._ Of course it will. It has a thousand times before. _Victor was shocked even still at just how oblivious Viktor could be sometimes. "Is_ lux solis _enough?"_

_Also on the list of things Victor would probably never get used to was hearing only one half of a conversation. "I will. I love you, too," Viktor said._ He's such a damn sap.

_Victor spent the next hour of darkness sitting by the fire, considering all the battles he'd had with the shadows so far. Contemplating strategy and moves and timing. Before he knew it, dawn was breaking. The shadows were here._

_Victor gritted his teeth and readied his sword the moment he saw their ugly, distorted, pale masks. He knew Viktor would be terrified, so he had to act fast. He leapt up off the stone he'd been sitting on, sword over his head, and yelled a battle cry. Somewhere that seemed much further behind him than it probably was, he heard Viktor cry out, "Yuuri!"_

* * *

Victor staggered backward, dazed. _What was that?_ he thought. But somehow, the sweat was gone from his brow, his heart had settled, his mind could think clearly. More importantly, perhaps, the fire had returned to his veins. He narrowed his eyes.

The shadows were here. At least a score of them, maybe more. And these ones didn't move at a normal pace. They seemed to teleport, melding in and out of the black. They carried dual-bladed weapons which seemed to be forged from the night itself. Their grotesque forms and movements became even more horrifying when they moved five meters closer to you each time you blinked. But Victor was no longer afraid. 

As he counted out 4/4 time and swing-kicked his way toward the shadows, Victor let himself consider his vision. It had the distinguishable aura of the future, which Victor didn't know he could differentiate until just now. It had felt so real, but so distant, it had the same intuitive sense of correctness as a farmer's knowledge that it would rain tomorrow.

He cut down the first shadow in one blow and kicked the second back when it lunged at him from behind, pivoting off the ball of his foot. He waited for another full beat, defensive, and then struck on it. 

He didn't bother putting his left foot down, simply leaping back off his right to roundhouse kick the next shadow through what might have been its shoulder or neck. It toppled unceremoniously to the ground and Victor stabbed through its midsection before it could stand back up.

The next shadow came at him faster than he'd expected, so without enough time to spin around and raise his sword Victor lifted his boot up into the air, legs in a full split. The unsuspecting shadow's weapon was caught in the divot behind the heel of his boot, and Victor brought his leg around in a half-fly and the weapon was yanked from the shadow's hand, pulled to the ground under the weight of Victor's boot. It made a dull thud against the hard frozen earth. Victor then got the opportunity to cut the shadow down with his blade, and it fell to the ground with a scream.

He turned to look at Otabek, but he couldn't see him. The blackness was absolute, save for his own green blade. Another shadow was coming and he barely had time to react. He switched into 6/4 and continued to fight, but his face shifted into an expression of concern. _Where is he?_ Victor thought. _He was here just a minute ago, I should see his spear at least..._

In that moment, as he killed two shadows in a single spinning strike, Victor saw a flash of blue in the black. It felt like his heart had restarted. A figure moved towards him at a normal, though quite fast, human pace, the glint of blue which reflected through the black coming from somewhere nearby. But then Victor realized that the figure was much too large to be Otabek.

Sky made their way through the throng of shadows, fighting and running at the same time. When the shadows moved too close, they kicked one and grabbed the heads of two others and smashed their foreheads together hard enough to split the masks down the middle. They arrived at Victor's side carrying two of the shortswords Victor carried, glowing the same deep blue as their eyes. That had been the blue he'd seen. Victor felt his heart sink.

"Where is Otabek," Sky said. Their voice lost all its warmth, their eyes, previously pools of sky-blue water, froze into chips of ice.

"I don't know," Victor admitted. His voice was small and fragile.

"I'll look for him. You can hold your own." Face still stone, Sky gave a thumbs-up over their shoulder before disappearing into the blackness in front of Victor.

The dark was disorienting. Victor couldn't see where he'd come or where he was going, he didn't have any idea whether he was going in circles, moving closer to Kamyinsk, or farther away. He saw no hint of the magenta barrier, and after a few more dead shadows, he no longer could orient himself well enough to remember from which direction Sky had come. His ears couldn't percieve anything more than the horrible screeches of the dying shadows, his body couldn't understand anything more than the exhaustion that crept forth with every move he forced it to make. 

Then the glint of blue came out of the dark, stronger this time, from the corner of his eye. He spun towards it as soon as he had an opening wide enough, and he saw a figure even larger than Sky. No, not one figure, two. One over the other's shoulder. Sky was carrying Otabek, fighting all the way with their one free hand as well as their feet. As soon as they got within earshot of Victor, they shouted, "Follow me back to the city!" If their eyes were ice before, now they were blue flames. Victor followed the them back to the city, grabbing Otabek's spear and using it in his off hand, and with that plus his sword, he tried to help protect Sky as they made their way back to Kamyinsk as quickly as they could.

The magenta barrier was closer than he'd thought, it's light was simply swallowed up by the intrusive blackness until they were only a few meters from it. Victor sliced it open with Otabek's spear and they rushed inside. The shadows couldn't follow, but Victor couldn't make his ears ignore the harsh banging the barrier made as they beat against it. It took all his strength not to look back at their grotesque masked forms which he knew would be clawing and pounding at the barrier just behind him.

Sky didn't collapse and lay Otabek on the snow like they might have if this were a story. Instead, they continued to carry him through the city, leaping onto the ice and skating as fast as they could. Victor was surprised that even with Otabek draped unconscious over their shoulder, their speed still rivaled his own.

The medic was on the corner between the southern and western wing, and Sky entered the building quickly, practically leaping through the doorway; Victor followed. 

The doctor, a short man with straight black hair and a perpetual scowl, helped Sky lay Otabek out on a stretcher, which he wheeled down a hall and into an empty white room. This was the first time Victor had been able to see Otabek's wound in the light, and it forced his heart into his throat. Below Otabek's ribs on his left side there was a festering mass of void, its edges mixed with blood and dripped in thick, viscous streams down his side, staining the white parchment on the stretcher. 

Immediately the doctor motioned for a nurse and they both pulled white wands from their medical gowns as another nurse brought over a tube with a needle on one end and a clear bag full of what looked like blood attached to a pole on the other, sticking the needle into the crook of Otabek's elbow. 

The doctor and nurse cast an intricate-looking spell together, drawing arcane lines in the air which appeared yellow to Victor's eyes. The sigil, once complete, flipped horizontal, shrunk, and fell into Otabek's wound. In an instant the void was gone, and there was only a huge gash seeping blood. It was smaller than Victor expected, but it was still sickeningly large.

_What are you going to do?_ Victor thought. The doctor seemed to consider for a moment, knuckle of his index finger pressed under his lip. He said something, but Victor didn't hear it. Had his ears stopped working properly after all that high-pitched screaming from the shadows? Or was he just dazed in worry? The nurse that had previously stuck Otabek with the needle was now handing the doctor gloves and various instruments. The first one looked somewhat like a wand, but with an awkward-looking thing on the handle. The doctor was studying a white box in front of him intently as the nurse stuck the wand end inside Otabek's wound. 

Victor watched them as they worked, mesemerized. This was all so advanced compared to the medical practices he'd seen before. If a dancer broke his foot in the circus, a splint was the best anybody could do. But as the doctor checked various things and stitched up Otabek's wound, as the nurses hooked him up to more and more little beeping and whirring machines, Victor began to have a little hope that Otabek would be alright.

He was soon ushered from the room, by which nurse he didn't consider, and into the front lobby. Sky was sitting in a chair in the corner, and Victor sat next to them.

"He's gonna be okay," Sky said. "Dr. Lee is excellent, he knows what he's doing. I've been here before, for myself and for others. Otabek's even been here before, though not for Shadow wounds."

Victor's mind was blank, his mouth devoid of words. He stared at the drops of blood and void scattered across the wooden floor where Sky had carried Otabek in. He glanced at Sky and saw the long red-black stain smeared down the front of their grey uniform. They saw him staring and said, "It's a shame I'll have to get a new uniform now, huh."

Victor chuckled. He couldn't help it. Only Sky would think of their uniform in a time like this, even if what they said was correct about Otabek being fine. Victor hoped they were right about that, with every part of his soul.

* * *

The sun rose and Ana came in, sitting in the waiting room beside Victor. They talked for a few minutes before falling into the same silence that had enveloped the room for the previous hours. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Lee walked out, pulling off blood-soaked gloves. "Mr. Altin is going to be fine. He is on intravenous fluids for the next few hours while the spells complete the removal of the Shadow curse from his life-force, but after that he should be okay." Victor didn't figure the doctor to be older than Viktor, in fact he looked much younger, but he had crows feet and frown lines and an expression like he were fifty.

"When will he be back on his feet?" Ana asked.

"In all likelihood, tomorrow. The day after at the most." The doctor straightened his mussed, thin bangs. 

_I'll be gone by then, if I can't convince Viktor to stay. Which I can't, in all likelihood._ Victor's limbs tensed, he balled his fists. He wanted to stay with Otabek. He wanted Otabek to come with him. And now neither of those could happen. And it was all because Otabek had been a damn fool and cared about him. Why should anybody, especially someone like Otabek, care about Victor?

A nurse came down the hallway. "Mr. Altin is asking to see you," he said.

Victor placed a hand over his chest with a questioning expression. _Me? Why does he want to see me?_

The nurse nodded, and Victor stood, dumbfounded. Victor followed him down a different hall than before, to a smaller but cozier looking room. This one at least had some color, with an accent wall of washed-out blue and light-colored wood baseboards. Otabek lay on the bed in the center, shirtless with two tubes covered over with gauze and white tape sticking out of his left arm. His eyes were weary, but they lit up when Victor hesitantly entered the room.

"Hello, Victor."

"Hey, Beka... Are you okay? You-"

"I'm fine, Victor. Even better now you're here."

Victor smiled and blushed, averting his eyes from Otabek's gaze. "Dr. Lee said you'd be out tomorrow."

Not quite all the happiness in Otabek's tone vanished, but a good portion of it did. "Yes."

Victor dragged his gaze back to Otabek. "Can you try to get better faster so you can leave with me?" He hoped against hope that by some medicine or magic the answer would be yes.

"Can you stay longer here, putting the fate of the whole nation on hold until I can accompany you?"

"No..."

"My answer is the same."

Victor was silent for a time. He sat down in the wooden chair beside Otabek's bed, cradling his face in his hands, letting his hair cover his right eye. He stared at the silvery strands and hated them. _Why can't Viktor just fend for himself for once in his life? Why did the goddess-damned prophecy choose me to protect him?_ He reached up to grab his hair, not sure what he intended but fueled by fierce passion and hatred, when Otabek grabbed his hand.

"I will be there for you, regardless of whether I am able to stand by your side. When you complete your fated mission, I will be here. I would refuse anyone who tries to take me away from this place, and I would deny anyone else my loyalty. You have my soul, Victor, and you should know as well as I, that bond cannot be broken by mere distance."

Victor couldn't process what he had just been told. _You have my soul_ , Otabek said. What did that mean? And why did it seem to Victor that he felt the same way? He found his eyes widening, his lips parting as his lungs filled shakily, without his mind having any say in any of it. Before he knew it, tears spilled over his lashes. A few drops at first, then so many as to carve rivers into his hot cheeks. His chest was racked with silent sobs, breath catching in his throat.

Otabek brushed his hair from his face, shifting slightly in his bed with a wince. He looked mesmerized, tracing his thumb up Victor's wet cheek.

"What are- you doing," Victor half-snapped, half-sobbed.

"I've never thought... you would cry..." Otabek said quietly. 

Victor snarled, baring his teeth. He shook his head to force Otabek's hand away from him, and strands of the thick silver hair that whipped around his head stuck to his damp face. Tears ran into the corners of his mouth as he shouted, "I'm mad, okay?! What do you expect me to do?!"

Otabek didn't seem to have a response to that. He let his hand hang in midair. His expression mumbled an apology, but his mouth said nothing. 

As Victor's tears started to dry, he stared at Otabek's hand, still outstretched like caressing an imaginary lover. Or a real one who had just selfishly snapped at him. _Goddess damn it, I am an idiot._

Otabek seemed shocked when Victor practically shoved his face into his hand, turning his face to kiss Otabek's palm as fresh tears fell from his chin onto the bedspread. "I'm sorry Beka, it's not your fault," he said in between kisses planted on Otabek's arm. "It's mine. I was an idiot and I let you get too far from me and I couldn't find you to protect you. I swear to you that if that ever happened again I would fight to my death before I let them lay a finger on you."

Victor kissed down Otabek's arm, across his shoulder, up his neck and down his chest. "I know you're going to say something stupid like 'But you're brand new to this, I should have protected you', and while I get the logic, I refute it outright. Love isn't logical."

Victor looked up, expecting a response, but instead he got Otabek's hands in his hair, tugging him into a kiss. He smiled, using the hand that wasn't raking through Otabek's hair to wipe his tears. In a minute they broke away, gasping for breath. Otabek's blush ran down his face and neck, only fading around his chest. It was beautiful and he was beautiful.

Otabek tucked Victor's hair behind his ear as he spoke quietly, "I thought you said you weren't the type to fall in love so fast."

"I at least had the courtesy to know you for a full day before my stupid brain decided to fall for you. Viktor knew Yuuri for like two hours before he confessed."

Otabek's expression said _wow._ There were a few seconds of silence before he said, "May I kiss you again?"

"You may kiss me all you want, but we should both get some sleep sometime, and I should eventually tell Viktor where I went-"

Otabek pulled Victor close to him once more. "Eventually," he whispered into Victor's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, feels and more feels in this one. I hope you enjoyed the long-ass Victor POV. As to the chapter title, it has to do with a lot of gold symbolism I've sprinkled through Victor's thoughts and actions throughout the fic. I'll spell most of it out here.
> 
> The title of this fic, "Hair of Silver, Blades of Gold" represents its two main characters, namely Viktor and Victor (respectively). The hair of silver represents Viktor's destiny, obviously - Viktor uses his silver hair to prove he's the legendary hero, he has to hide it from the shadows for the same reason, etc. - but the blades of gold are a bit more complicated as it relates to Victor.
> 
> The concept of gold already has the connotations of victory and exclusiveness, but these were especially prevalent in Victor's mind early on. From the moment he learned of his "destiny" from Chris, Victor was certain (because why wouldn't he be, the prophecy referred to him by name), and his "it's the world's job to stay out of my way" attitude only amplified this. Gold, then, represented his "destiny" before he met Viktor. When Otabek describes Victor when he was in the circus, he describes his hair, dyed to be "blond like gold" (this is the light blond color that Yuri P.'s hair is in the show). Victor was also the first of the two Nikiforovs to get the golden skate blades.
> 
> When the two Nikiforovs met, the concept of gold came to signify Victor's resentment for his older counterpart, and later (as he grew to hate Viktor less after his conversation with Loop), his resentment for the prophecy. He feels gipped, understandably. You can see some of this when Victor is teaching Viktor to change his skate blades.
> 
> Then, last chapter when the two came to Kamyinsk, the symbolism for gold changed again. Victor had decided on his role in Viktor's life - Viktor's bodyguard - and in so doing he met Otabek Altin. Altin means gold, and Otabek is both a literal mentor in fighting/ romantic interest AND a symbol of Victor's decision to take charge of his and Viktor's destiny. Even more specifically, "BLADES of gold" now means both skate blades AND weapons. Between these things, gold becomes a good thing again.
> 
> There is a lot more symbolism in this fic, not just for gold but for other things. There's a decent amount of foreshadowing: Victor entering the story was foreshadowed when Viktor saw the hero depicted as a ballerina (Victor did a lot of ballet while at the circus, among other things), and his coming to Kamyinsk was foreshadowed when the poster Lilia showed him had the hero in high-heeled boots. There are also some implications that haven't been explicitly addressed, like how Lilia is not five hundred years old, instead, every girl in her bloodline has been named Lilia so that when Yuuri wakes up he will remember them. But I'll let y'all find most of that ;D


	11. Trial 8, Part 3: Shifting Enchanted Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor visits the Royal Lab and meets the head scientist and sorcerer, Phichit Choulanont. They discuss all matters of science and magic, but eventually Viktor and Yurio must leave on the next leg of their journey. But before they do, Yurio has one last thing to do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys! I know this has been a long time coming, and actually I had the chapter almost entirely written this whole time lol. I was just tweaking it, deciding what I wanted to include and where, etc. Still not super happy with it but *shrug* I'm not happy with most of this fic. Good thing is, this is just the draft; I'll go back over the whole thing when I have the full draft written and fix up the major problems (looking at you, chapters 1-4 :P). So without further ado, here's your chapter!

After his incredibly emotional performance to _On My Love,_ Sara had insisted on taking Viktor back home and getting him changed. He put on a pair of dark blue slacks and a grey sweater, then left again with Phichit to visit the royal lab. While they skated to the southern end of the city, to the royal lab, Viktor tried to explain what had happened earlier that morning.

"So the royal family set up a bunch of artificial ice sheets and rigged them so the Prince could see them through a magical eye on an invisible door?"

"Well, 'the royal family' is Yuuri, and 'a bunch' is sixteen, but yes."

"And you and the Prince are in love."

Viktor's mouth formed a heart as he exclaimed "Yes!"

Phichit's eyes widened, eyebrows raised as he sighed. "Jeez."

Viktor did a fidgety twizzle and skated a circle around Phichit. He thought he had drained all his energy with that program, but it turned out that after a half hour's rest, it came flooding back. If he weren't on skates, he'd be bouncing on his heels.

"So how do you two even communicate?"

"Oh! I have these little glowy balls called soul orbs. I don't really know what they do, but it has something to do with magic and life-force. I can talk to Yuuri with them and they also emit enough light to keep the Shadow away, so I can be safe by myself at night."

"Life-force magic?! That's the riskiest kind of magic in the _world!_ If you use it wrong, it can kill its host! And you use it like a damn cell phone?!"

A single drop of sweat ran down Viktor's temple. "What's a cell phone," he said quietly.

Phichit pulled a little metal rectangle from his jacket pocket. "This. You can use it to contact people from far away if both people have one."

"But Yuuri doesn't."

"Point. But you still shouldn't be using his life-force."

"He's already using it to fight the Shadow, talking to me has to be a rounding error compared to that." 

"Look dude, I don't even know how he does _that._ A single human's life force shouldn't be able to do even a quarter of the crap the Prince pulls off, and it's been a scientific mystery for centuries how he does it. But I guess you make a good point, though I still wanna see that soul orb of yours. I might be able to make some modifications to make it more efficient and less potentially deadly; the tech _is_ five hundred years old after all."

"That sounds like a good plan."

Phichit and Viktor approached the royal lab. It was halfway down the main southern road, off to the right and down a slightly less major road. It was a huge building made of metal and glass, constructed like a massive brick turned on its end and towering over the other similar buildings that surrounded it.

There was a small lobby with chairs and small corner tables, an empty reception desk, and a set of glass doors. Phichit fetched a small white card from his pocket, stuck it into a slot in the door, and pulled the door open after a little light on the slot lit up green. He gestured for Viktor to go in first. 

In the next room, there was a rack along the wall with white coats, helmets, and bracelets. Phichit fetched one of each for each of them.

"What's the bracelet for?"

"Protects you from arcane discharge." Phichit led him along a path that was painted orange on the floor past large machines making peculiar mechanical noises and into another room toward the opposite end of the lab. The room Viktor was led into was smaller, had less equipment, but still contained a plethora of devices and machines on tables around the room. There was a wooden desk at the far end with stacks of papers arranged neatly on it. Phichit removed his helmet and set it on a shelf against the wall; Viktor followed suit.

"This is my private lab. I mainly specialize in magic, that's what I'm schooled in, but because I'm the head scientist I do nearly everything." Phichit beamed from behind a table covered with instruments.

"I have a _lot_ of questions."

"Okay, well since you don't know much, I'll start from scratch. First, general world stuff. Everything in the world is made from some tiny little things called atoms, far too small for you to see. Different materials are made up of different kinds of atoms arranged in different ways: for example, lead and diamond are both made of the atom carbon, but arranged differently. There are two main categories of atoms, depending on whether a certain kind of elementary particle - that's a piece of an atom - is present in its composition. That particle is called a magica, and it is totally unlike any other kind of elementary particle. Quarks, photons, bosons, whatever, are all quanta of fields. Magica are freaking weird, their fields don't _have_ quanta and wave-particle duality doesn't exist-"

"You lost me at _quanta of fields._ "

Phichit laughed. "Sorry. Basically magic is separate from normal stuff on a fundamental level, and it has to do with the fact that magic links sentient brains (like humans) to magical objects."

"Okay. You found me again. What makes magical objects-"

"Magical? Simple. They have an incredibly regular crystal structure. The way their atoms are linked together makes simple shapes. Examples of highly magical things include ice, diamond, certain metals, and recent inventions like carbon nanotubes and graphene."

"Uh..."

"Those last two are made by manipulating carbon - that's the thing that makes lead and diamonds - at the atomic level to create a perfect lattice of hexagons. Nanotubes are tiny little straws made of carbon hexagons, and graphene is a flat sheet made of them."

"I believe I understand. Somewhat. You said ice was magical, does that mean-"

"The 'trials' you talked about were much easier to create because they used ice."

"And the reason the Veil is an ice sheet is because ice is magical!" Viktor thought he might be getting the hang of all this science stuff.

"Oh, yeah, about the Veil and the Shadow. See, every thing in the universe has an anti-thing. Whenever a thing and an anti-thing collide, they explode with tremendous force. The two are equal and opposite, but for some reason there's way more matter (fancy word for stuff) than antimatter, nobody knows why. The only exception is magical stuff. There is an equal amount of magic as anti-magic, and the anti-magic things are commonly called the Shadow."

"Uh, then how does the Veil work? Didn't you say things and anti-things explode when they collide?"

"The exception is magic. Again. Magic is weird, and I could get into the quantum details but honestly I don't even know a lot of them. Magic and anti-magic both try to sort of swallow each other up. The Veil is very powerful magic that swallows anti-magic, and the Shadow as we all commonly know it is very powerful anti-magic that swallows magic, including humans. All humans are inherently magical because of some neuroscience stuff I won't get into."

Viktor pressed his fingers to his temples and leaned over to rest his elbows on the nearest table. He started to think he might not be getting the hang of the science stuff after all. "Neuro...science?"

Phichit pointed at his head. "Brains. Basically, magic is attracted to brains, specifically sentient ones." He walked over to Viktor and patted his back. "Sorry this is a lot. You wanna give me one of your soul orbs and I can take a look? There's a chair over there." He gestured to the chair behind the desk in the corner of the room. 

Viktor handed Phichit his favorite soul orb, the blue one he'd gotten first, and made his way to the chair. He sat down, cradling his head in his hands. The world was a lot more complex than he'd been brought up thinking it was. And then Viktor thought—of course he did, because every thought of Viktor's somehow makes its way back to Yuuri— _Does Yuuri know about all this stuff? Phichit said the soul orbs were outdated, but Yuuri would have to know at least some of this to make those and the trials in the first place. Phichit should be talking to Yuuri instead of me. He'd understand. And I think they'd be great friends._

Viktor looked up with a new smile on his face, watching Phichit do something to the soul orb. He had a black wand in one hand and what looked like a small knife in the other, and he was carving the orb along the swirling blue patterns. When he'd been at it for a little while, he stopped to grab a pair of darkened glasses from the desk. He urged Viktor to put some on, too, or to look away. Viktor put on the glasses.

It only took another few small cuts with his blade for Phichit to pull the black casing from what Viktor soon found was a much smaller orb of pure blue light. He only looked into it for a moment before his vision whited out entirely.

* * *

_What had just happened? Where was he? He was sitting cross-legged on a surprisingly comfortable floor in front of Yuuri, who looked even more surprised than he was._

_Even though he was disoriented, in that moment Viktor realized just how stunning Yuuri was. Before he'd only gotten to see Yuuri's face, but the rest of him was no less amazing. Below an olive green robe tied loosely around his waist, Yuuri was gently muscular with prevalent collarbones and sculpted shoulders. He had truly impressive thighs Viktor had to try too hard not to stare at, and his calves and feet were bruised and scarred just like Viktor's from years of skating._

_"V-Vitya? How are you here...?" Yuuri whispered, leaning forward onto his knees. He reached the arm that wasn't supporting his weight out to touch Viktor's cheek. His hand was warm, and Viktor leaned into it._

_"I don't know," he said, moving towards Yuuri. "Phichit took apart one of my soul orbs, he said he would make it more efficient. I don't think he meant to-"_

_Yuuri's face already showed understanding, and he sat back down. "He took off the black shell, didn't he." It wasn't a question; Yuuri knew he was right. Viktor simply affirmed his lover's statement with a nod._

_"Thought so," Yuuri said, smirking. Why was Yuuri so hot when he smirked?_

_"How long do I have with you?" Viktor said, crawling over on his hands and knees and probably looking pretty desperate as he did it. He nearly tripped himself over the baggy green robe he was wearing now for some reason. Probably because it matched the one Yuuri wore, and this was probably Yuuri's mind, or at least a space he controlled._

_"Not long, probably... a minute or two tops. Assuming - Phichit you said? - doesn't freak out and replace the covering."_

_"You did this once while I was in the middle of a quad flip; from that experience, a minute or two in Yuuri's-mind-space is about half a second of real life, probably less."_

_"Oh. I hadn't known the exact coefficient but that makes sense."_

_Viktor moved even closer to Yuuri than he already was, and decided to straddle his lover's crossed legs to hold him as tightly as possible. "Why can't we do this more often," he murmured into Yuuri's hair. "I love you, Yuuri." He felt Yuuri's arms around him, fingers trailing up and down his back underneath his robe._

_Yuuri's response was muffled by Viktor's robes. "Um... because it would drain too much of my life-force... and I would probably die. Which would be bad for a number of reasons, uh, the least of which being you would be sad."_

_Viktor pushed Yuuri just far enough away from him to see him clearly; Viktor's eyes teared up a little, brows creasing together. "I would be more than sad, Yuuri, I would be devastated! I can wait to see you again until I save the world... But..."_

_"But?" Yuuri asked. His voice was becoming slightly quieter and Viktor knew their time was running out. Their surroundings were turning to white around them._

_"May I kiss you again?"_

_Yuuri's lips pressed against his in lieu of forming a response. Viktor squeezed Yuuri tighter as they kissed, dragging his tongue along Yuuri's lower lip and feeling his lover shudder in response. When Viktor ran out of breath—it was somehow always him; Yuuri had such brilliant endurance—he gasped against Yuuri's neck and relished in his last few moments in Yuuri's embrace before he faded back into reality._

* * *

When Viktor came to, he was leaning forward in Phichit's chair against his hand. His eyes refused to focus for a short while, but he felt something wet run down his chin. Startled and a bit embarrassed, he sat up and wiped the drool with the back of the hand he'd been leaning against. _Yuuri, why do you taste so good..._

He looked up once his eyes decided to focus properly to see Phichit put the finishing touches on the black casing and replace the orb to its home in the center.

Phichit walked over to Viktor, soul orb in hand, a moment later. "There! Good as new. Well, better than new actually. Modernized." He held it out with a smile and Viktor took it, staring at its radiant blue light. 

Viktor questioned briefly whether he should tell Phichit about what had just happened and decided he would do it but spare the details. "Hey, Phichit? When you took the black case off the orb, something weird happened. I was in a fancy room with Yuuri. Sort of like I was during my program, except I saw a lot more of what was around us. Is that..." Viktor looked up to Phichit, who was staring wide-eyed. "What?"

"Dude, you were in his head?!"

"I suppose. At least, I wanted to ask you whether that was the case."

"Yeah!" Phichit began pacing back and forth, hands running through his black hair. "Theoretically that sort of thing is possible by linking two peoples' life-forces, but it's never been done because one, life-force is far too risky, but two and more importantly, no two people have been so perfectly matched that their life-forces are that compatible! Amazing! And you say you've talked to him twice."

Viktor held up three fingers. "Thrice, including this time." He didn't figure that one time he met Yuuri just long enough to kiss him counted.

"You two have to be soulmates."

"I didn't think that was anything more than a fairy tale."

"It is, mostly. People aren't born with soul marks or anything, that sort of thing _is_ a fairy tale. But what you two have done... it makes you as close to soulmates as you can get in real life. And that is honestly awesome."

"I've never heard anything in the legends about the Prince falling for the hero."

Phichit shrugged. "Neither have I, but that doesn't mean they don't say anything about it. The legends have all been fragmented over the centuries and honestly, don't try to live your life by them." Viktor thought he sounded like Yurio. "Why haven't you asked Yuuri about the legends? Presumably he knows all about the legends as they were originally given by the oracles."

_Why didn't I think of that?_ "I don't know."

"It's cuz you were too busy making out," Phichit said, teasingly. He was more right than Viktor thought he knew.

Viktor figured he would change the subject, to prevent further teasing. "Hey Phichit? May I get a tour of this facility? I would appreciate a more detailed understanding of what you all do."

"Absolutely, but you probably won't get most of it. I'm pretty bad at explaining things. I could give you some books to read for when you continue your great quest, if you like."

Viktor nodded. "That sounds brilliant. And for the record, you're fine at explaining things. I'm just not that smart, at least not as it comes to this. I've been told I'm a genius in a skating context, but I'm not sure I believe Yurio about that."

"I can attest to your skating genius, Vik. That performance was like nothing I've ever seen. I would say it was enough to make a grown man cry, but you already know that." Phichit winked. "Seriously, that was the best choreography I've seen in my life, and the presentation was masterful."

"Thank you, Phichit, I'm flattered."

"And I'm sure Yuuri's impressed with your skating, too."

Viktor thought of Yuuri's words immediately after he finished his recent skate. _You were wonderful, Vitya. I just wanted to surprise you as much as you've surprised me. That was the only thing I could think of._ He thought of the way Yuuri had looked at him when they'd met in his mind-scape a few minutes ago. "I hope so."

Phichit smiled at Viktor and then walked along the back wall to the other side, which Viktor saw contained a decent number of bookshelves. He saw Phichit start pulling books off the shelf by the armful, and he only walked back over when the stack got so tall he couldn't see over it anymore.

"Phichit, this is far too nice of you. But those are your books, and besides, where will I put them?"

Phichit smirked, held up one finger, and rushed out of the room, leaving Viktor in silence. Viktor looked up at the top of the huge stack. It was an introductory book on neuroscience. Not pausing to wonder why Phichit, head royal scientist, kept introductory books around, Viktor picked it up and began reading.

He didn't even realize that Phichit had gotten back until the scientist dropped a bag in his lap. Viktor looked up and saw all the books were gone from the desk. Before Viktor could ask about them, Phichit pointed at the bag. "This bag is a semi-spacial gateway, like a smaller version of those rooms behind the doors at your trials. It stretches spacetime and puts a little pocket in it where you can store more stuff than you would be able to otherwise. Your books are in there."

Viktor pulled the fastener down the drawstring and pulled the top of the bag open. Fully opened, the rim was large enough to fit books in and out of. He put the book he had been reading into the pack, and pulled it out, not feeling the weight of the bag change meaningfully. "This is amazing, Phichit. Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Hey, no problem! Always happy to be of service to the hero of legend." Phichit gave a thumbs-up. "So, you still want that tour? After that we can go to lunch, if you want."

"That sounds excellent."

* * *

 

Viktor signed quite a number of autographs for Phichit's various lab assistants and coworkers as they toured the lab. As a side benefit, Viktor also saw how plastics were made, how spells were invented, and how research was conducted, among other things. 

The place they ended up going for lunch afterwards was small and a little kitschy. There were six-pointed stars all over the place, an odd eight-branched candle holder, and a lot of little tchotchkes, mostly colored blue and silver. 

Either the silverware was real silver, or a very impressive forgery.

Viktor looked over the menu. A dark-haired, olive-skinned waitress came over to take their drink orders, but dropped her pad when she looked at Viktor, having taken Phichit's drink order. He dialed up the charm and smiled at her, giving a small wave. She looked like she was about to faint and she practically choked out the words "And- wh-what will y-you have, s-sir?"

"Just water, thank you." He made sure to pour some extra sweetness into the _thank you._ He always made sure to be extra nice to customer service people, because they always seemed to expect the polar opposite.

"How do you always do that to people?" Phichit asked, lowering his menu to meet Viktor's gaze.

Viktor lowered his menu in response. "Do what?"

"You're so damn charming, but you act like other people charm _you_. I don't understand how or why you're so likeable."

Viktor did a little sheepish shrug. "Other people _do_ charm me. I remember when I was younger, it used to be almost entirely a facade I employed to make people like me." Viktor chuckled and straightened his fringe. "By younger, I really mean months ago. But I suppose I've realized recently that there's love everywhere, and all I'm doing is returning it." He smiled down at his menu, vision doubling as he stared into space.

Phichit, however, didn't seem amused. "This is all because of Yuuri, isn't it." He rested his cheek on a loosely balled fist, tugging his mouth into a bemused frown.

Viktor's mouth wanted to stammer, and his body wanted to curl up into a ball and blush to death, but he decided against both these things and nodded. "I had love around me all my life, but Yuuri helped me realize it. I had lovers before, but I was always so selfish..." Viktor fought the impulse to bury his face in his hands, simply raking his fingers through his hair. "I played them like fiddles and cast them aside when I got bored."

"Wow. Harsh."

"I was used to everybody worshipping me, mostly just because of the color of my hair. I got anybody I wanted and it spoiled me. When I first met Yuuri, I immediately thought, _this one is way out of my league._ He was the first lover I ever felt I wanted to prove myself to. I was terrified at first. He sounded as if he loved me too and I couldn't accept it even though the signs were there. Yuuri... had to tell me explicitly that he loved me before I believed him."

Phichit was sniggering by now. "What?" Viktor asked.

"You're such a sap. Go on."

Viktor went back to staring lovingly at the tablecloth. "I didn't realize it until recently, until we talked last night, that Yuuri seems to think I'm way out of his league, too. He thinks he's not doing anything special. All I want to do is reassure him that he is, for his country and for me."

Viktor looked up. The drinks had come while he was reminiscing but the waitress had kindly let him finish; he wondered what part of his sappy monologue she had heard. Phichit was in the middle of taking a long sip of something pink and fruity-looking. When he finished, he looked to Viktor and said, "Sounds like a good life. Find someone way out of your league who also thinks you're way out of their league and live in perfect confused harmony with a dog."

Viktor sipped his water. Either it was very cold or his face was hot; the truth was probably some combination of both. "I do have to save the world first."

"Excuse me?" said a voice from the end of the table. Viktor looked up; the waitress had come back. "I didn't want to interrupt, but I felt I should ask whether you two were ready to order."

"I am," Phichit said, "but I think he's been too busy telling me about his boyfriend to think about what he wants."

The waitress nodded knowingly and walked off with a noncommital "I'll be back in a bit" while Viktor buried his face in his hands. Peeking at Phichit through a hole between his fingers, he mumbled "Why do you love to tease me so much?"

Phichit laughed. "It's so easy! I mention Yuuri one time and you melt into a heart-shaped puddle."

"Have you never had a lover?" Viktor brought his hands down from his face and crossed them on the table in front of him as he looked over his menu. There were a lot of oddly-named dishes and even with lists of ingredients Viktor had a difficult time figuring out which he would like. What exactly is matzo, and how do balls of it taste in soup? 

"Never one I was quite that head-over-skates for after talking to them twice."

"Thrice," Viktor mumbled as he tried to decide between latkas and tsimmis.

"Whatever. What do you even know about him besides 'he's kept the world from disappearing for the past five centuries'?"

"He's absolutely beautiful, kind to everyone but himself, loves skating and poodles, made the trials himself, has the whole country's landscape memorized, and he's just so..."

"Perfect?"

"Amazing. Inspiring. He's not perfect, he knows that and so do I, but he does his best to help his country and to help me and I think that's more important than perfect. And also, Yuuri's been doing this as long, in fact much longer than either of us have been alive, and since he's been the proverbial pillar which holds our world in place, it's so easy to just think of him as a natural force, like gravity, which will continue to do what it does regardless, as opposed to a person with flaws and struggles of his own, fighting a constant battle." Viktor looked up at Phichit. "I'm ready to order now."

As Phichit looked around to try to wave down their waitress, he said, "You two really were made for each other. Never thought I would see a prophecy play out so perfectly right in front of my eyes."

The waitress walked back over and took their orders. Phichit ordered the matzo ball soup, and Viktor made a mental note to ask him for a bite. Viktor ordered the tsimmis, which he figured was sort of like a pot roast. The waitress still stammered a little when she spoke to Viktor directly, but he brushed it off with a little extra honey.

"We're through talking about me and Yuuri," Viktor said deliberately once the waitress walked off to the kitchen. "I want to hear about you. What was it like growing up in this city? When did you decide to be a scientist?"

"I'm not sure what to say about growing up here, because I don't have a frame of reference for growing up anywhere else. As to why I decided to be a scientist? When I was a kid, I learned in school that the rest of the nation was in a sort of dark ages. My friend and schoolmate, Seung-gil Lee, was infuriated by that... he wanted to help everyone else. Honestly, I did too; I was just less angry about it. All the grownups said no, it was impossible, the Shadow was too powerful for us. They kept telling us that even when we developed great proficiencies in magic and soon enough we learned for ourselves that they were right. After a brief period of existential crises and feeling helpless, we took paths to try and achieve our goals of helping people, if only within this city. I became a scientist and he became a doctor—well, at the beginning, I was a lab assistant and he was a nurse. We tried to ignore the happenings outside our literal sphere, because we knew by then that we couldn't change them."

Viktor stared at the candles burning in one of the eight-branched holders, letting the orange of the flames blur in his vision, letting the background fade into a sea of brown. He had never quite fully realized the depth of the sorrow that consumed the nation at present. _Everyone else grew up in this terrible world too, but they had no clue how to change it. They only knew that I would be the one to do it. Was that why everyone revered me so much? I didn't notice because I always sort of knew I was going to be the one to save everyone._

"You can stop staring off into the distance," Phichit said wryly.

Viktor looked back toward Phichit, though not directly at him. He stared at his reflection in his water glass, at the loose silver hair that fell over his left eye. "Sorry."

"I just need to know you're still paying _attention_." 

"No need to involve yourself in my existential crises?"

"Nah, I have enough existential crisis material myself." Phichit laughed, but his expression let on a little bit of the emotion behind his joke.

"I understand."

The waitress returned a moment later, carrying their food on a platter. "A plate of tsimmis for the living legend, and a bowl of matzo ball soup for the head scientist. Enjoy." Instead of walking off, she turned to Viktor and pulled out a pad of paper similar to the one she had taken their orders on. "And, um, would you mind signing this?"

"Not at all," Viktor replied with his kindest smile. "Would you happen to have a pen?"

"Oh! Yes. Sorry."

"Not a problem. And what is your name?" 

"Gavriella, why?"

Viktor wrote—in Common, because he didn't happen to know this lady's native tongue—a short message: 

_Ms. Gavriella –_

_It is apparent that you have no trouble seeing the light in others. I pray you never fail to also see the light in yourself._

_Viktor Nikiforov_

When he returned her pad and she read his message, she raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Thank you," she whispered through her fingers.

Viktor smiled and picked up his fork. "Thank _you_."

Gavriella stumbled away, clutching the pad to her chest. Phichit looked impressed over his bowl of soup. "What did you write?" he asked.

"She seemed to me the sort of person who thinks too greatly of others and too little of herself. I wrote her something reminding her to see the light in herself as well as in others." Viktor shrugged and started to pull the stringy meat on his plate apart with the tines of his fork.

"Vik, you are too damn nice. Even though I kinda cringe when you gush over Yuuri, I'm glad he made you such a nice person."

Viktor couldn't find a way to tell Phichit that he'd always been nice to his fans, so he just ate his glorified pot roast. It was actually much better than any pot roast he'd ever had; it had prunes and carrots in it, the meat was incredibly tender and juicy, and there was some kind of a sauce, which was probably just whatever everything had been sitting in when it was cooking, but it tasted just like the meat and it was perfect for dipping the prunes and carrots in. After a few bites he looked at Phichit, who was working on dividing his matzo balls into little bite-sized portions which could fit on his spoon and leave room for an ample amount of broth. Apparently, matzo balls were round pock-marked spheres of doughy stuff that looked kind of like bread taken out of the oven far too early.

"Phichit, may I try some of that?"

"Sure." He put a chunk of matzo ball on his spoon with some broth and handed it to Viktor, who leaned across the table to eat it. Viktor found that the matzo absorbed the flavor of the chicken broth but added a soft, spongey texture. 

"You were supposed to take the spoon," Phichit said, but Viktor was too busy loving the taste of this soup to notice.

"This is amazing! Phichit, is everything at this place so good?"

"Yeah, actually. That's why I brought you here. This was one of the places Seung-gil and I used to go when we were in school. He doesn't have a lot of time to do much with me anymore, but sometimes we still go."

"I wouldn't imagine you have a lot of free time either."

"More than he does." Phichit's silver spoon clinked against the porcelain bowl as he stared into it, fidgeting with his soup.

"I'll eat that if you don't want it," Viktor offered sarcastically.

"No way. My soup. Eat your tsimmis." Phichit wrapped an arm protectively around his bowl. He was smiling again.

Viktor raised his hands in surrender. "I am!"

"Good." Phichit chuckled. "Sorry for being a downer. You make me miss him."

Viktor pointed accusingly at Phichit and said, "You make me miss Yuuri, but then when I talk about him you call me a sap."

Phichit looked taken aback and gestured with his spoon. He retorted, "You've never even _met_ Yuuri! Seung-gil and I grew up together!"

"I have too met him! And besides, that comparison makes it sound like you two are an item."

"Who says we aren't?"

Viktor did his best _I just heard the best gossip_ gasp, fingers over his lips. "No!"

"No. We aren't. He's attractive enough, certainly a nice person, but he never cared enough to pursue a relationship with anyone, so I'm not about to initiate."

"That's probably smart. My life story seems somewhat like a fairy tale—I suppose in a lot of ways it is, and sometimes even I don't believe all this is really happening. But I don't presume anyone else should attempt to find a lover the way I have. There are all matters of both of your normal lives to consider when there's no destiny involved."

"Surprisingly well-considered." Phichit took the last sip of his fruity drink, slurping through the straw a second before setting it aside. "How long have you been on this quest, anyway?"

"Oh, six or eight months I believe, though it feels much longer. Especially the time I spent with Yurio - I feel somewhat like I've known him much longer than I have."

Phichit furrowed his brow and pressed the side of his fist to his lips, staring at Viktor's end of the table. "Have you considered that that might be because you two are destined to be together?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You seem to feel the same way about Yuuri, from how you talk. Maybe the prophecy is making you feel that way so you'll have the resources you need to succeed."

Viktor... didn't know how to feel about that. _If that's true, how much of what I feel is legitimate and how much of it is the prophecy toying with me? I'm not sure what I think about the concept that the only reason I care for Yurio is because he's destined to help me, but I'm sure I don't like the concept that Yuuri and I only love each other because of some prophecy..._

Phichit apparently read him like a book. "If you're freaking out about which of your emotions are genuine, don't. Magic can only enhance feelings that are already present, it can't make new ones. Assuming this _is_ the prophecy and not just lucky coincidence, which isn't certain, but assuming it is, you and Yuuri aren't in love because of magic. You might be more passionate, but that's it. Magic can't create a friendship out of nowhere, either, so don't worry about Yurio."

"That's... at least somewhat reassuring." Viktor finally took another bite of his food. He should eat faster; it was getting cold, and it would be a shame to let such amazing meat go to waste.

Phichit ran his hand through his hair. "Sorry for running my mouth and freaking you out. I do that too much, just thinking out loud without considering what comes out."

"It's fine; I shouldn't be 'freaking out' anyway. I don't suppose my feelings are made less valid by their source being external instead of internal; it's just that I, like most people, am not used to my feelings having an external source."

"Are you always so philosophical?" Phichit set his spoon into his bowl and it clattered a moment before settling. 

Viktor was reminded again to eat faster; he didn't want to hold his new acquaintance up. He took another bite before responding. "No; I just really want to be with Yuuri. I suppose I'm alright with being a pawn in the universe's game if it means I end up with him." He wondered if he would ever stop blushing whenever Yuuri was mentioned.

Phichit buried his face in his hands and Viktor was momentarily confused before he groaned out, "You are such a _sap!"_

* * *

 

He was in a different room this time. Walls painted a cream color, full of light woods, with the bed in the center accompanied by a small nightstand totally inaccessable from the bed without necessitating some awkward spinning-about, upon which sat a bouquet laughably large for its vase. The room's only present occupant faced away from the door, feet tucked under the bottom of the dresser, relentlessly doing situps and grunting loudly through gritted teeth. The mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through open blinds which let thin strips of shadow fall onto the wall adjacent to the window. Light but sure footsteps came down the hall and stopped in the doorway; the occupant of the room stood up and turned to face the door. In the doorway stood a lithe figure, silhouetted in the artificial hallway light.

"Hey Beka," said the figure's quiet, broken voice. "I... I wanted to see you again. One more time, before I leave."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking around! I really appreciate it ~ What did you think of the scientific description of magic? Does it make sense / need to be simplified? Is there anything else in the chapter you want to talk to me about? Feel free to add a comment, it means a lot to me!!
> 
> Two announcements before you go:
> 
> 1\. I'm graduating from college (yay!) at the end of the summer. After that, I'm getting a job in my chosen field. What this means for my writing, idk. It could mean I have more time, or it could mean I have less. I won't know until I get there. Just wanted to make you aware of updates which could affect the story!
> 
> 2\. To simplify the plot GREATLY (to avoid spoilers, duh), this story is separated into two main arcs. The chapter after this one marks the end of Arc #1. (No coincidence that happens at ch.12, aka the same number of episodes as the anime.) I have some vague ideas for Arc #2, but nothing concrete. After that, there's a short ending arc which ties up remaining plot threads and contains a lot of adorable fluff. My question for you all is, what should I put into Arc 2? I welcome any and all suggestions!!
> 
> Ok, enough from me. Cheers, and have a nice day!!


	12. Trial 9, Part 1: The Journey Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yurio leave Kamyinsk at last, half the trials behind them, and more-or-less ready to begin the next leg of their journey. They imagine they're prepared - but what exactly does this second leg of their journey have in store for them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOSH this was a long time coming! There are a few reasons, involving 1. I'm graduating from college and starting my career so I have -10 free time, 2. I was working out the intricate plot details for what's basically a second story arc, and a few others. Regardless, have this chapter!
> 
> I split trial #9 into two chapters, because I figured two 10K chapters would be better and easier to read than one 20K chapter (though y'all can feel free to tell me if you'd prefer long chapters, since I update so rarely anyway). These chapters are really kind of the turning point, and it's going to get FUN from here.
> 
> Trial 9 Part 2 will be posted in the next few days, after I finish editing/polishing/etc. Without further ado, enjoy!

Viktor hadn't felt this way since he left home. It was odd missing a place you couldn't stay, missing people who weren't travelling with you. Neither he nor Yurio had done so in a long time. But after numerous rounds of hugging and crying, after Mila and Sara gifted them both clothes and a decent chunk of change, after Phichit enchanted both their skates to become comfortable and warm walking shoes off-ice, Viktor and Yurio were on the road again heading eastward.

The thick snow crunched loudly under their boots, and the cold air whipped across their faces. Yurio's face was buried in his scarf and his eyes were watering, probably not just from the cold.

"You miss him," Viktor said, quietly. 

Yurio stayed silent, but he glanced away just enough that Viktor knew he was right.

"I understand. And I'm sorry we had to leave. But you know the reason, no?"

Yurio nodded, reaching up to adjust his scarf. They had both gotten scarves with moisture-wicking properties, and while Viktor had simply tied his around his neck, Yurio had wrapped his around his head and most of his face. It was designed for that, but Viktor didn't think it was cold enough to warrant that _and_ a hat.

Viktor looked around. The snow had stopped for the time being, the clouds mostly cleared, the sky a washed-out shade of light blue. There was a sizeable evergreen forest approaching on the horizon, and he knew the trial was somewhere in there. From the scale of the map, it was a week's journey at the least. A week's journey through a snowy forest full of pine trees. To Viktor, it sounded like winter at home. Exploring the forest with his friends, having snowball fights and ambushing each other from behind trees... he wondered whether Yurio would like to have a snowball fight. 

He reached into his magic bag and pulled out the leather-bound book he'd been using to keep track of his choreography. His gloves made him a little clumsy, but they did keep him warm enough that he didn't need to shove his hands in his pockets every few minutes, so he tolerated the way they made him fumble with his notebook. The next song was _The Journey Continues,_ a simple solo-violin piece that for some reason reminded him of the village where he'd met Oxar. It felt like a song for walking through a forest.

The sequence of lines, meant to symbolize ice tracings, showed a program with a clear beat: a sizeable number of mohawk-crosses and loops emphasized the undulating melody, the jumps were mainly combinations and there were two spins. He was in the process of retroactively including a few quads in all of his programs, now that he could do them. _Change the first triple to a quad, but leave the double alone, there's not enough music for a triple... Would it be smart to do a quad flip at the end? I don't think so, this is a longer program, but I'll have to try it to be sure..._

A harsh breeze whisked past, kicking up a cloud of powdery snow. Something moved in the snow drift, exactly what, Viktor couldn't tell. He glanced to Yurio, who was squinting into the whiteness.

"What was that?" Viktor asked calmly. Maybe before Yurio had gotten all that training and been gifted not one but two awesome glowing swords he would have been afraid, but now he was confident in his friend's ability to protect them.

"A wolf, looks like. A bloody huge one. Something else moving beside it, but I'm not sure what..."

"I think I might have read about giant wolves." Viktor pulled open his magic bag, closed his choreography journal and put it in before rifling around for the reference guide: a thick hardback book with a green cover entitled _Nature Illustrated_. After flipping pages for a moment he came upon the entry for _lupus grandis,_ supposedly a wolf twice the size of most—growing up to four meters long and two meters tall—with a white coat which lived and hunted in these northern parts of the country. "Yurio, I found it! And it says here that people used to ride them!"

"How would you even do that? A wolf's back isn't flexible like a horse, it would be like riding a bull. I knew people who used to do that in the circus, it was not fun or easy, certainly not a good mode of transportation."

Viktor attempted to describe the illustration in the book for a moment before giving up and handing the book to Yurio. "See, they sort of ride the wolf sideways, like running beside it or something, holding onto the fur."

"Oh, and you can also ride them sidesaddle. Hm." Yurio adjusted his scarf again, though it didn't seem to need it; perhaps he had replaced his usual fidget of tucking his hair behind his ears with doing that. 

"That one seemed to be wild though, and maybe chased by something? I don't think anybody would be riding one this far away from any town."

"Beats me. I couldn't see whatever it was too well. It seemed a lot smaller than the wolf - same height, roughly, but much less length. And it seemed brownish colored, at least partially. Besides that... dunno, sorry."

"Don't be. I didn't even pick up on the fact that the big thing was a wolf."

"That's cause you're old and your eyesight is awful!"

"Yurio! How could you?!" Viktor brought the back of his hand elegantly to his face and stumbled backward dramatically, imitating a faint. 

"You're just so easy to tease!" That was probably true, Viktor came to think. Previously he'd thought Yurio was just excessively sharp of wit, but then Phichit had told him the same.

* * *

"So whatever that was, do you think I should do a quad flip at the end of this? There's a perfect accent for a jump and-"

"Do you even have enough endurance for that?"

Viktor bit his lip. "Maybe? I have been practicing."

"I wouldn't do it."

They came up on a pond that had iced over very thoroughly and started walking around it before realizing that they didn't have to bother and promptly skated across it. Viktor silently appreciated the quiet whooshing of their blades until they stepped off and began walking again.

"But how do I know the Veil program won't have a quad at the end?"

Yurio turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you have, like, a vision or something?"

"I did, but I only skated the program partway through before I woke up."

"That sounds like a gip."

Viktor shrugged. "I suppose. I only sort of remember the music. It was... operatic? A tenor, with... piano? violins?"

"How do you even know that you're anywhere close to being ready to skate it? You're, what, a third of the way through the trials, and you have a few shaky quads you happen to be lucky enough to have landed for your last trial. How do you know the program isn't going to be like six minutes long, super fast, and full of quads you don't know how to do yet?"

_I guess I don't,_ Viktor was about to say, when a third voice spoke up.

"I can tell you for certain that the Veil Key isn't six minutes long," it said. 

Viktor was shocked speechless for a moment, but he processed the owner of the voice right away. Yuuri.

Yurio spoke up first: "Do you always just sort of pop out of nowhere like that?"

Yuuri chuckled; his voice implied a shrug. "I don't know how else I would do it. You can't see me, so I can't announce my presence physically, and that's most of what cues a person to noticing another."

"Annoyingly good point," Yurio sighed. "So what is this Veil Key anyways? What do you need to do to complete it?"

"It's a four and a half minute long program, and the music is an aria entitled _Stay Close to Me_. The choreography is not set, but the Key has certain requirements; for example, three spins."

"Yuuri," Viktor spoke up, "Why is the program called a Key?"

"Short version, because it _is_ a key. Longer version... Well, think of a key, specifically, the part of one that actually fits into the lock. It has two functional dimensions: length and height, corresponding to the number of pins in the lock the key needs to push down and the amount the key needs to push them, respectively. This program has four dimensions: the three dimensions of normal space, within the confines of the ice sheet, and the dimension of time. Instead of pins, though, there are parameters that need to be met."

"I think I understand. Do you, Yurio?"

"Maybe. All that dimension stuff makes my head hurt, but I got the requirements part. What are the requirements anyway?"

"At a minimum, the Veil Key needs four quads, two jump combinations, and a triple axel; three spins: one single-position, one single-position with a flying entry, and one combination; one step sequence and one choregraphic sequence."

Viktor blinked a few times. Yurio facepalmed.

"In four minutes," Yurio said from behind his hand.

"Four and a half," Yuuri corrected. 

"Whatever. And you said at a minimum? Is it even possible to do more and why would you want to even if it is?"

"I saw someone complete a program with five quads in it without any magical assistance."

Viktor blinked some more. "Really?"

"About three hundred years ago or so, a man named Nathan from the village you're heading towards did a program with six quads and landed five of them."

Yurio laughed. "Dude."

"Humans are really impressive! If you watch lots of them, you understand."

"You know, Yuuri, you're right... I look around at the state of the world now and I think, how would we even hope to restore it to what it was five centuries ago? But then I remember that people have always been able to do great things, and I remember that the world five centuries ago was built from the ground up before that... we did it once, we can do it again. And I also suppose if that man can land five quads, I can also."

"Viktor, all due respect to the legendary hero, but is that smart? That guy probably trained for, like, his whole life, and had a professional coach, or something like that-"

"Yurio is right," Yuuri said. "but I think you can still do it, Vitya."

"Yuuri– Goddess it feels so weird to call you by your first name, what else can I call you?" Yurio's face was scrunched up in something resembling disgust. 

"Well, Prince, I suppose, but that feels too pompous. Katsuki, if you like, or some friends of mine used to call me Katsudon."

"Why?"

"I presume because I love katsudon? It's also sort of a play on Katsuki? I don't know, I'm just giving you a list of stuff I'll respond to that isn't my name." Yuuri laughed out that last sentence. 

Yurio nodded. "Okay. That feels appropriately informal and ridiculous. As I was saying, Katsudon: you said _at a minimum_. Is there any reason for Viktor to do more than the minimum?"

"Oh, actually, yes, and I'm glad you mentioned it. This is unfortunately where my key analogy breaks down, so you'll have to bear with me. You know how there are degrees of spells, and how it uses up more magical energy to cast better spells? Well, because skating is a very powerful type of magic, skating better, faster, more elegantly; jumping higher, spinning longer and in more difficult positions; doing more difficult turns in your sequences... those all make the spell that is your program stronger. Am I making any sense?"

"You are, but I wasn't aware that skating was a powerful type of magic." Viktor mused on the time he had remarked that one doesn't do a lot of magic while fishing or figure skating, and how Yuuri had smiled in response to that. "I'd appreciate knowing specifics as to what counts for each of those. What's a difficult position? What's a difficult turn?"

"A difficult turn is easily explained: loops, twizzles, counters, rockers, and brackets are difficult turns. That's just the ice tracing being more condusive to spells just like certain shapes are better for sigils. A difficult position a little harder to explain, it's commonly anything that pulls you off your center of gravity... for example-"

A very odd thing happened just then. Overlayed on Viktor's normal vision of the snow-covered plain with the forest ahead, an artistic charicature of Yuuri wearing suit-like outfit with similarly copious amounts of glitter to Sara and Mila's dresses did a spin like a front sit spin, but with his body twisted such that his left hand was on his calf and his right arm was behind his back and his chin was over his shoulder. "Because your core is twisted in this position, it counts as 'difficult' because it would be easier to pull you off your center."

"Viktor, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Yurio sounded positively dumbfounded.

"Yes, I am. Yuuri, how do you _do_ that?"

The vision vanished as quickly and unobtrusively as it had come, which was to say not very. "Um, my life-force is kind of... linked to yours? I can influence you in some limited capacity?"

"Yeah well, please stop fucking with my eyes."

Yuuri sounded just a little bit offended. "I'm not, actually. I can't make you see things that aren't there. But what I _can_ do is make you _imagine_ things. I've been doing it this whole time. I'm not talking to you out loud, because my vocal chords don't actually work; I'm thinking and letting you hear what I think in a way that seems to _you_ like I'm talking. That's why you 'hear' me just as well with the soul orb in your bag as you do with it in your hand. I do that at the trials also, which is how I can get away with making you hear loud noises at them while keeping their locations secret to others. In the same way, when I think of an image, I let you 'see' it."

"What's the difference?"

"When you read a book in your head, you imagine a voice reading the book aloud to you, even though there is no voice and your ears aren't hearing one. When you read a story, you imagine the events as if they're happening in front of you, despite the fact that you're still seeing nothing more than the words on the page."

Yurio nodded, curiosity seemingly sated. 

"Is there any way that I can hear the music?" Viktor asked. "I've never heard anything called _Stay Close to Me_ , as far as I'm aware. Can you... sing it?"

Yuuri's reaction was to sputter in embarrassment. Viktor laughed; he figured that if Yuuri were physically present he would be blushing and waving his hands about. 

Yurio chuckled dryly. "I take that as a no. But, can't you make us imagine stuff that isn't you?"

"Um, no. Well... sort of? I don't know. Let me see if this works..."

Viktor had been entirely wrong about the instruments. A nondescript wind instrument, plus a harp, began playing somewhere in the distance to his right. Viktor also suddenly felt warm, and the kind of bubbly that came with being just slightly tipsy. The scene before him was bathed in a light just slightly orange, not like a torch but like sunlight filtered through amber. The lyrics began in a language Viktor didn't understand:

_Sento una voce che piange lontano_

_Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?_

The tempo was slow and steady, and Viktor had in fact been correct about the tenor. Something about the voice seemed sad, like he had been lonely for a very long time. Viktor understood; he could see himself skating to this.

_Orsù finisco presto questo calice di vino_

_e inizio a prepararmi_

_Adesso fa’ silenzio_

The instruments pulled back in, forcing up the beat as well as the volume. The next lines were sung with passion like poison, anger evident in the singer's voice and in the very tempo of the song. And yet, the loneliness still persisted. It made him seem spiteful, or vengeful.

_Con una spada vorrei tagliare quelle gole che cantano d'amore_

_Vorrei serrare nel gelo le mani che scrivono quei versi d'ardente passione_

And then, an abrupt cessation of that anger. The yearning took over, accompanied by something like hope. Something like love. A lone, high violin entered the song.

_Questa storia che senso non ha_

_Svanirà questa notte assieme alle stelle_

_Se potessi vederti dalla speranza nascerà l’eternità_

The last sentence was building in power, brass entering in chords. The singer drew out each note, belting octaves.

_Stammi vicino, non te ne andare_

_Ho paura di perderti_

This song would require a lot of power to skate properly. And four quads, at the minimum. Viktor nodded to himself. He could do it. He opened his notebook and began sketching out choreography and taking notes on the placements of elements.

_Le tue mani, le tue gambe,_

_le mie mani, le mie gambe,_

"This would be around the time you'd start getting tired," Yurio pointed out mid-lyric. Viktor nodded absently.

_e i battiti del cuore_

_si fondono tra loro_

The last note was held for a long, long time, and Viktor figured it would be best to put one of the spins there. He made a quick note in his book: a semicircle attached at roughly a sixty-degree angle to a circle traced over numerous times, followed by a dash and a rough estimate of a timestamp. This length of music was extensive, perhaps instead he should put in a footwork sequence. Or should he spin, then do footwork? Was there enough music for that?

_Partiamo insieme_

_Ora sono pronto_

The song built to climax in the last two lines, power evident in the singer's voice as it lingered over the last syllable. The song ended with a great clash of brass, then all sound ceased. Along with it, the warmth fled Viktor's body, the odd sensation of tipsiness left his senses, and the warm orange glow vanished from his sight. He was taken aback, blinking a few times; nothing about his surroundings had changed, yet everything had. A sudden cold wind made Viktor shiver.

"Yurio, did you feel that?" _Feel_ wasn't the right word, but Viktor couldn't find a better one.

Yurio looked positively shaken. He stared off into space, eyes wide and glassy. _I'll take that as a yes._

"Yuuri, what happened just now? I-"

Yuuri sighed. "You asked me if I could make you imagine things that weren't me. I initially said no, because I'm the person doing the magic, and so everything I'm making you imagine is from the inside of my own head. Because I've spent so much time in this stasis pod doing it, I think of myself in the third person, so I make you imagine what I think I look like, in varying degrees of realism. But then I reconsidered: could I make you experience my memories? I had heard the song _Stay Close to Me_ several times. But there was no reason you needed to be fully absorbed into the life I lived, so I tried to select only the parts of the memory you needed, namely, a specific portion of what I heard."

Yurio hadn't had enough explanation. "So we felt warm and slightly drunk because..."

"I was warm and slightly drunk at the time."

"And everything sorta glowed orange for the same reason."

"The lighting in the palace ballroom is orange." Something about his tone gave Viktor the mental image of Yuuri running his fingers through his hair. It was incredibly distracting. "Evidently, I couldn't separate the individual pieces of my memory very well."

Yurio nodded. "I wouldn't say you didn't do it well, Katsudon. You just didn't do it perfectly." Just as Viktor was thinking _aw, that's sweet,_ Yurio added with a scowl: "We already have one perfectionist in this group, we don't need another."

Yuuri laughed, and again Viktor got a mental image of him: tired, a little bleary, but genuinely happy. A moment passed, then Yuuri sighed and said, "I'm sorry if you see me doing things. That particular piece of magic took a lot out of me, so I'm having a hard time controlling my thoughts."

Viktor tried to say _it's okay,_ but the only thing that ended up in his head was _Goddess Yuuri, you're so amazing_. All sound caught in his throat. Yuuri giggled, though at what Viktor wasn't aware.

With a voice like a furrowed brow, though no more of his face than his eyes was visible, Yurio said, "Hey, Katsudon. If you can make us imagine you doing random junk, can't you make us imagine you walking beside us?"

"It... might take a little work to tweak, but yes, I imagine so. It's... probably getting dark where you are though, so I don't think I should do it today."

_It's getting dark?_ Viktor looked around. He and Yurio were only a few meters from the forest's edge. The sun had set over the horizon, the clouds lingering pink and the western sky red. The eastern half of the sky was already dark, blue-black space speckled with stars. Yurio hastily pulled a pink soul orb from his pack and held it out to Viktor, who took it as Yurio pulled his swords from their sheaths on his belt. "You didn't notice either, did you," he said. Viktor shook his head.

They walked into the forest, the soft pink light from their soul orb bouncing off grasses and snow and tall pine trees. A small amount of sunlight still came down through the treetops, speckling the ground in red and orange, but for the most part the forest was dark. They slowed their pace instinctively, wary of their new surroundings. After a period of silence that felt longer than it likely was, Viktor said with a smaller voice than he intended, "Yuuri, can you keep talking to us?"

After a brief pause wherein it felt like Yuuri was checking something, he replied, "Yes. Phichit did an excellent job at improving Viktor's soul orb, so I can probably talk indefinitely if you want."

"I um, knew that, I meant, can you keep talking, please, because this forest is dark and scary and your voice is comforting?"

Yuuri giggled. "Yes, I can. What should I talk about?"

"Before we get into that. Yuuri, Viktor, I need to tell you something. When I was out training with B- with Otabek, way more shadows came for us than either of us expected. They thought I was you, Viktor, because of my hair. I wouldn't be surprised if they tracked us this whole way, and they're coming for us." Viktor blinked at Yurio, so before he could say anything Yurio continued. "I can handle it, I did before, but I'd like to point out that this isn't going to be a walk in the park."

"I didn't think it was going to be in the first place, but now we have to deal with shadows on top of giant wolves?"

"Well, by 'we', you of course mean 'you', because you have no idea how to fight. But yes, I'm aware. I can do that."

_Is he just being rash and overconfident? He does have a significant streak of it in him. Even so, he was taught by the best warriors in Kamyinsk, and though he's confident, he frequently lives up to his own expectations-_

Yuuri's voice broke Viktor momentarily from his thoughts. "I think you can do it, Yurio."

_He always seems to have perfect confidence in us. How much of that is a facade? How much is the fact that he knows more about-_ "Yuuri," Viktor said, "What do you know about the prophecy?"

After a moment of silence at the abrupt change of topic, Yurio added, "Yeah, we've only gotten fragments as retold over centuries. You probably heard the original, so tell us."

"Well... there is of course the risk that I change the course of history by telling you what has been foretold. But I think I can circumvent that risk by only telling you what the prophecy says about what's already happened."

Yurio, to Viktor's surprise, nodded sagely. "Smart."

"I don't have it memorized - the phrasing the oracles used was much more eloquent than what I'm going to tell you, but here's the gist, with some pieces of the original phrasing that I happen to remember thrown in." Yuuri cleared his throat in the exaggerated manner of someone impersonating a royal announcer. Viktor smirked. " _The Prince of Oskaria, Katsuki Yuuri, son of Katsuki Hiroko, second heir in the Katsuki royal line_ —yes, it gives a lot of detail about me, it actually goes on longer I think— _will be woken on the turn of the fifth century of his slumber by a man with hair of silver, a man with blades of gold. A skater of figures, and a great warrior, by the name of Viktor Nikiforov._

"At the time, everyone was confused about the details of the description. For how specific it was about me, the prophecy left out a lot of details about its hero. Where does he come from? Who are his parents? How does he travel, and where? How long does it take him to accomplish his goal? But I noticed that not only is the prophecy not specific about any of these things, it's also not even necessary that it's talking about only one person. Everyone interpreted _a man with hair of silver, a man with blades of gold_ as a rhetorically eloquent way of describing a single person. And yet, _a skater of figures, and a great warrior, by the name of Viktor Nikiforov_ could refer not to one multitalented person but to two, more specialized ones, who happen to have the same name.

"Even so, the lack of locational specificity forced me to put a trial near every major city in such a way that wherever the hero or heroes came from, they could find their first trial quickly; after that, it was only a matter of the heroes being determined enough to find the rest. It was a messy solution, but it was the best I could think of."

"So you're saying," Viktor mused, finger to his lips, "the prophecy could be talking about both of us. Yurio, isn't that neat?"

Viktor looked around when Yurio didn't respond and didn't see him, but it was dark and there were so many figures moving around... wait, figures? ...Of whom? Viktor glanced around fervently and saw outlines moving in the blackness and the occasional gleam of moonlight off the blade of a sword. He tried to call out to Yurio, but didn't actually move his lips enough to let any sound out. A flash of green in the corner of his vision and a humanoid blur made him almost imagine Yurio's presence, but as soon as it was there it was gone again. Viktor clutched his pink soul orb tighter and with great effort continued to walk forward. 

"He's fighting shadows," Yuuri said, at only slightly less than his normal volume. Viktor nearly jumped out of his skin, terrified the shadows would hear him, before he remembered what Yuuri had told him earlier: his lover's voice was merely a figment of his imagination. "I can feel Its attention moving away from me and towards him."

_How do I respond to him?_ Viktor thought.

"I can hear your thoughts," Yuuri replied. "I don't need to use my voice to talk to you, you don't need yours to talk to me. Vitya, listen: you need to walk rhythmically. Pick a tempo and stick to it."

Viktor started walking to a beat in 2/4 time, at first counting in his head and then letting his body remember the rhythm. _Done. Why?_

"Because the Shadow has the polar opposite of an intutive sense of timing, and a total absence of a memory. I'll tell you to change timing periodically, just do it whenever I say. It doesn't matter what timing or tempo you pick, just pick one you can sustain."

Viktor nodded. He pulled his cap further down, bowing his head and glancing fervently about. He felt so alone and so vulnerable. He struggled to make his thoughts cogent. _Can you alert me if a shadow gets close to me? I'm not a fighter, but I think I can dodge..._

"Yes, I can do that."

Viktor wanted to keep hearing Yuuri's voice, but he also didn't want to be distracted from the situation at hand. His physical alertness was partially helpful, in that if he needed to he could break into a sprint any moment, but it was also making it immensely difficult to focus on anything, and the worst thing he could do right now was zone out. He wanted Yuuri to ground him, but wasn't sure how that would happen, though admittedly his brain was fuzzy with adrenaline-

A soft melody with a sure beat began to play in Viktor's mind. He had never heard it before, but it had a waltz tempo. He changed his steps instinctively. On top of what sounded like piano, Viktor began to hear Yuuri's voice: maybe singing lyrics, maybe only humming, it was difficult to tell, but in any case it was soothing. Though the shadows of the trees in the moonlight were certainly moving, and though Viktor still saw the occasional flash of green in the blackness, he kept focused on moving forward. After that song ended another began, this time in 4/4, accompanied still by Yuuri's gentle humming.

After a surprisingly long period of this, Yurio came running up from behind, favoring his left leg, one sword in his hand and the other in his mouth. "Viktor," he said, voice loud but muffled, "There are too many. Start running."

Viktor immediately began to jog to keep up with Yurio, but lingered a step behind him. "Not without you."

"Of course not. I'll be right behind you." Yurio gave a thumbs-up, then grabbed his sword from his mouth and fell back.

Viktor broke into a sprint, tripling his pace. _Where are we going?_ he thought as he ran. _There isn't a town for hundreds of kilometers. I don't know if I can run until daybreak, but if that's my only option, I'd need to favor the muscles I've developed for skating..._ He shifted from a normal run to a quasi-leap, bending at his ankle more and jumping forward like he did for axels, making sure to stay on time. _Good. I should switch back and forth to make sure no one muscle group gets too exhausted._ He looked over his shoulder, seeing the blur of green and silver that was Yurio in shadow-fighting mode, running and jumping and swinging swords to and fro with obvious but not specifically discernible pattern, the magical glow from these reflecting in his eyes. When he had first seen the boy, Viktor had thought of Yurio's eyes as emerald flames, flickering slightly like candles in a draft. Now, his eyes were viridian infernoes, blazing like hellfire and consuming anything which dared to cross his path. 

Viktor shuddered and looked forward. _Okay. Think. The shadows can see in the dark like I can see in the light, so they have kind of negative vision. I need to stay away from the darkness; I need to get to someplace as light as possible... Moonlight. I could climb a tree. Try to find a large one, not an evergreen because those still have foliage that would cast shadows, plus it would hurt like hell; not one with a large amount of small branches at the top. Alternatively, I could turn around, start running the other way, try to get out of the forest the way we came in, but there are probably a lot of shadows in the way of that plan. In either case, I would have to tell Yurio, but I don't know how to do that without speaking aloud, and I don't want the shadows to notice me..._

"I can tell him," Yuuri said. "I'm connected to both of your minds."

Viktor nodded. _That sounds good._ And at once he felt a strange emptiness, like the feeling he might get if he suddenly realized he'd never skate again, like the feeling that all hope was lost. Before Viktor could properly process what had happened, the void was filled again, and Yuuri said, "Done. Yurio says that it would make more sense given the number of shadows to try and find a tree."

Viktor tried and failed to mentally describe what he had felt in Yuuri's brief absence, but it didn't seem that he needed to; he felt an understanding emanating from his lover that was, given the situation, strangely comforting.

So Viktor ran, feeling his lungs and throat burn with the cold, listening to the rhythmic, crisp thuds of his feet on the brush and snow and the clash of metal behind him. With every glance he could spare he looked up to what he could see of the treetops, trying to find a good tree to scale quickly.

Viktor didn't even see it coming. 

A hand firmly established a death grip on his wrist, then he went from moving rapidly forwards to moving just as rapidly sideways. The abrupt change of direction made Viktor's stomach lurch, but he only barely noticed over the static of his adrenaline. "Grab on," said a voice. He grabbed at whatever was close to him, trying to hook his legs around something so he would stop from dangling perilously by his wrist, and ended up holding onto the side of a very large fuzzy thing, which was moving forward in a great leaping motion Viktor could only describe as bounding, and weaving through trees at a clip faster than any horse. He felt his cap coming off and managed to catch it just as it was about to fly away into the forest behind them. 

Viktor stared what was to him upward but was probably straight ahead in relation to the ground. Beyond his hair and the white fur on the creature blowing wildly in the wind, he saw the dark forest blurring by. If his mind could process how quickly he was moving, he would be terrified, but since it couldn't, he was simply bewildered and relieved.

A moment later he came off his adrenaline-induced high enough to realize what was happening, and the first thing that came out of his lips was "Yurio?!"

"I'm here, Viktor. Other side, with Leo."

"...Leo?" 

A brownish blur in the corner of his vision led Viktor to look to his side, where he was somewhat disoriented to see treetops and sky. A man dressed in brown stood atop the creature—Viktor saw the back of its head and its pointed ears and figured it was a wolf—which they were all evidently riding. His upper body remained steady despite his knees bending and straightening with the wolf's every bound. Viktor pushed himself away from its side to see the man more clearly. He wore beige pants, very baggy but cinched around the ankles, his feet seemingly bare. His taupe shirt was tight across his chest, his arms were wrapped in ecru cloth that stopped at his palms, and he wore a dark leather gilet comprised of three panels with stitching clearly visible between. His henna-colored hair was center-parted with a cowlick on either side, long in the front and short in the back with bangs hanging over both sides of his face. But the most notable thing about the man was the dark grey cloth wrapped across the upper half of his face, entirely covering his eyes.

The man smiled. "That's me," he said. "Leo de la Iglesia, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"You..."

"Saved you, yeah. Don't mention it, I just noticed you were out this way, didn't think much of it until I saw those shadows swarming you back there, figured I'd pick you two up on my way back to town."

"But, we're at least a week from the nearest town, aren't we?"

"Not by wolf we're not. Four hours tops."

"Oh. Wow."

"So, you're the legendary hero, right?"

"Legendary heroes, plural, but yes. I'm the skater, my friend Yurio is the warrior."

The expression on Leo's face wasn't immediately apparent because of the cloth, but Viktor figured it was some form of bemusement.

"What happened to your eyes?" Yurio shouted from the wolf's other side. He didn't need to, Viktor could hear him with minimal difficulty and surely so could Leo, but he had always been brash and loud.

"Long story," Leo replied, shaking his head. "But I'm not blind; I can see fine. Don't need my eyes for that." He turned to face forward, grabbed a portion of the wolf's fur on its neck that was particularly long, and pulled it to the left. The wolf turned accordingly, correcting course when necessary to avoid trees and rocks and such like, whether on its own or at the behest of its rider Viktor couldn't be sure.

Viktor at last mentally processed what had just happened. He and Yurio had been snatched from a throng of shadow warriors by a strange man and a giant wolf. That was... pretty good, actually. And very cool. "Leo, is there a way I can ride so I can see where we're going?"

"You can stand behind me, if you can pull yourself up. It's not a difficult thing to get used to. Just keep your knees soft and you'll be fine. Oh, and feel free to pull Luna's fur, she doesn't mind."

So Viktor pulled himself up, climbing up Luna's side awkwardly but competently. Once he was on her back, which was around the size of a small room—3 meters by 1.5 meters or so—he made sure to stand quickly, otherwise it would be difficult to stay on. Leo turned around to lend Viktor a hand in steadying himself, which Viktor greatly appreciated. Leo demonstrated the way he needed to anticipate Luna's bounds and bend his knees accordingly, then the way he would need to bend his knees in sequence if he wanted to face sideways. Viktor seemed to do relatively well, and he only bobbled twice, so Leo turned to face forwards once more and left Viktor to look around.

The forest whisked by at an unbelievable pace. As soon as Viktor fixed his eyes on something, it was only a few seconds before it was out of view, and he could just stand there and let his eyes defocus as the scenery moved past. Holding his arms slightly outwards for balance, he looked up, watching the blur of treetops filtering moonlight onto them and onto the forest floor below. Then he looked down, and noticed for the first time how incredibly high off the ground they were. Viktor had been this high up before, on balconies and the like, but never while moving, and especially not while moving this quickly. It was slightly terrifying, but much more beautiful.

"Hey, Yurio?" Viktor asked after a long time spent staring at the scene.

"Mm?" came his friend's muffled reply. 

"What are you doing? Don't you want to see this? It's absolutely amazing! We're moving so quickly and we're so high up!" When he didn't get a reply, Viktor looked over the wolf's side just enough to see Yurio curled into her thick fur. He smiled. "You're cold, aren't you."

"I'm not a bloody furnace like you, so yes," Yurio mumbled. 

They passed the next hours in near-silence, listening to Luna's heavy breaths and paw-falls, cutting through stagnant air and stirring it in their wake. It wasn't much harder to ride Luna than it was to walk. It was easy to get lost in the slow creep of a landscape as you walked through it, but it was just as easy to get lost in the way the trees sweep past you when you're moving so quickly. Viktor felt like if he'd been stationary, he could fall asleep easily to this view.

* * *

They had passed through several clearings, but none were as large as the one which housed the village that was their destination. The houses were of the same dark wood that had comprised the ones in Kamyinsk, but these were centuries more primitive. Instead of shingled rooves and shutters, there were thatched reeds and plainly paned windows. The shift between Kamyinsk and the rest of the world was evidently made no less abrupt by the fact that Viktor had spent his entire life in the latter.

They stopped at what looked like an oversized stable on the northern edge of town. Viktor had some limited difficulty dismounting Luna before Leo put her in her pen. She padded in a small circle, then flopped onto the floor in a pile of fluff. Viktor hesitated when the others started walking away, tempted to pet her, but he didn't want to be left behind, so he turned and ran to catch up with Leo.

Viktor and Yurio followed Leo down a well-lit cobblestone street into a large building near the town's center with oil lamps behind the windows. There was an indistinguishable noise of activity inside which became only slightly clearer as Leo pushed the door open.

A short man with thick tawny hair which puffed rebelliously away from his head in all directions stood with his back to the door, doing something very precise which for some reason involved a high-pitched scratching noise. A short time after he heard the door close, he paused whatever he was doing and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, hey Leo!" he said with an Asian-sounding accent; not noble, but dignitary perhaps. "I didn't think you'd be back for another half-hour. Does this have something to do with these visitors?"

Leo nodded as he pulled off his gilet and hung it over a hook on the wall. He looked like he was holding back a request. "These are Yurio and Viktor, I found them surrounded by shadows so I figured I'd pick em up."

"The answer is yes, they can stay with us." The man turned back to his work. "Let me finish this wand, I'll be over in a moment."

Leo, visibly relieved, then led the way out of the building and into the next one over, which looked much more homely. The last one had been mostly empty space lined with benches, cut at the halfway point by a waist-height bar with a sanded wooden countertop, behind which the man Leo had spoken to had been standing. This building was floored with wooden planks instead of sand, and the angular, high-backed wooden benches had thick cushions on the seats. There was a fireplace in a prominent wall of the main seating area, which Leo walked over to and went through the process of lighting. He didn't need to remove his shoes, because as Viktor had presumed he wasn't wearing any, but Viktor and Yurio decided to remove theirs and place them by the door.

There was a simple dining table, wider than it was long, at the far end of the room, with two chairs at it; a few more of the same style sat against the wall. On the far left wall, there was a tall bookshelf containing a fold-out writing table, presently folded out and having a stack of parchment placed upon it; a pen in its inkwell sat on one of the shelves above, which were otherwise packed full of leather-bound tomes. Through a doorway in the far right wall, Viktor could see a large four-poster bed with thick white drapes and an overstuffed mattress—not a mattress of the variety Viktor had seen in Kamyinsk, which was rigidly stitched into the shape of an oblong rectangular box and contained synthetic foam or metal springs, but the kind he had slept on at home, the kind that was essentially a gigantic pillow stuffed with down or straw. 

While Viktor had been looking around, Leo had lit the fire and was in the process of carrying chairs from where they had sat against the wall and placing them near it. He took the two cushions from the bench, placed them in the chairs, then sat on the bench and extended his feet towards the fireplace. "Come, sit," he said, gesturing to the chairs he'd pulled over. 

Viktor and Yurio walked over and sat obligingly. Yurio unwrapped his scarf from around his head, and Viktor unwrapped his from around his neck. They put them over the backs of their chairs, then removed their coats and gloves. Yurio held his palms out to the fire, then when he wasn't satisfied with the amount of heat he was getting from it, he scooted his chair closer. Viktor simply watched him, then stared into the fire, watching its fiery tongues lap at the air like thirsty dogs at their water-bowls. 

"Hey, Yurio," Leo said, concern in his voice. Viktor turned to watch him as he stood and turned towards Yurio. "You're hurt. Let me grab something for your leg."

Yurio stood up, but then thought better of it, seemingly not wanting to be helped but also not caring enough to stop their host. When he sat down again, Viktor saw it: he had a huge gash diagonally up his right thigh, the fabric of his pants peeled back and dyed garnet-red nearly to the knee. It obviously wasn’t ridiculously terrible, or he would surely have experienced the symptoms of blood loss already, but it still looked like it would leave a nasty scar.

Leo returned with alcohol, clean towels, and bandages. "Can you roll these up or take them off?" He said, gesturing to Yurio's torn pants.

Yurio nodded, stood, stepped out of both them and his underwear—perhaps because he thought they would get in the way, perhaps because he simply didn't care enough to put the extra effort into taking off only the outer layer—kicked them to the side, and sat back down. Leo offered Yurio one of the towels for privacy, but he held up a hand and shook his head, so Leo simply got to work, not seeming perturbed in the slightest. He poured alcohol from the flask to a towel, first wiping the blood from his leg and then turning it over and swabbing the wound. Viktor heard Yurio inhale sharply through his teeth, but he said nothing. 

"Sorry, man. Don't want an infection, though."

Yurio shook his head. "Thank you. Do it more than once if you need."

"I don't think it'll be necessary, but it can't hurt."

"Here, put a towel on the side and pour it right out of the flask." Yurio guided Leo's hands to the right places such that nothing would spill, and Leo did as he was asked after Yurio removed his hands and laced his fingers over his head. Viktor found out why when Leo began to pour the flask onto Yurio's wound: the muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed, those in his neck responded in kind to keep his head up, and through this his jaw was clamped shut so that his lips couldn't open enough to let him cry out.

When Leo finished with this, which was in fact a relatively short process of a few seconds but which seemed longer for Yurio's obvious agony, he removed the towels and gently set them aside. "Stand up?" he asked Yurio, who obliged. Leo proceeded to wrap Yurio's thigh in his bandages, securing them with a pin he'd previously attached to the cloth wrapping his arms. "There, done," Leo said, pushing himself up, "You have any other injuries I should look at?"

"Just a little one," Yurio replied, pulling up the left sleeve of his shirt, which seemed undamaged, to his elbow to reveal a near-horizontal slice across the wider part of his forearm. "Hand me the towel you just used, I'll do it."

Leo picked up the towel to hand it over when a chill breeze wafted through the room along the floor, making Leo and Viktor turn to look at the door and making Yurio shiver. The high back of the bench blocked the brunt of it, but it was still as cold as it had been outside, and Yurio was half-naked still.

The man who Leo had been speaking with in the shop walked in the door and closed it quickly behind him. Viktor had seen that he had been wearing a wide-collared tan sweater before, but presently he also wore a thickly crocheted plaid scarf which he buried his face in, an ankle-length straight skirt, and leather boots.

"Hi Guang Hong," Leo said, looking up bashfully and speaking quickly. How Leo could look like he was staring embarrasedly without his eyes, Viktor didn't know, but this seemed to be the case nonetheless. Yurio took the towel from him, and he didn't seem to notice or care. "Please don't be mad at me, I'm not doing anything with him except dressing his wounds, he had a nasty gash on his leg and I bandaged it up, see, look, alcohol and towels and blood and such."

The lighter-haired man giggled, sitting on the bench. "I believe you, Leo. Besides, he doesn't look your type."

"You're right, my type is cute Chinese boys with fluffy hair and puppy dog eyes."

Viktor looked between the two men and raised an eyebrow. Guang Hong noticed and laughed again, this time in embarrassment. "Sorry, um, I don't mean to ignore our guests. I'm Ji Guang Hong, Leo's boyfriend and the town's wand-maker. And, you are?"

"Viktor and Victor Nikiforov," Viktor said with great pomposity, "Heroes of legend at your service." He did a little bow, although the fact that he was sitting down made it slightly awkward.

Yurio sighed and threw his alcohol-covered towel at Viktor, who batted it away, sputtering. "You can call me Yurio, but... yeah, basically. I got this crap fighting shadows before your beau picked us up." He gestured to his bandages. 

"And you're still alive?!" Guang Hong whispered through his fingers.

"My blades have _lux solis_ on them, so as long as I don't get myself skewered I'll be fine." Yurio chuckled dryly.

Guang Hong nodded, letting out the breath he'd been holding and lowering his hands. "That... makes sense. I'm glad Leo picked you two up, even so." He walked over and Leo stood up, moving to meet him. "So, should Leo serve you guys some dinner, or...?"

Viktor got halfway through a cordial "It would be greatly appreciated if you wouldn't mind" before Yurio cut him off with an enthusiastic "Yes! I want food!"

Leo laughed and walked to a pot which sat on a counter along the far wall atop a plate that shimmered black, picked up something colorful and woven, placed it on the table, and then picked up the pot by its handles and set it on top of the woven thing. "I've had this in the crockpot all day, so I think it'll be nice and tender now. Could you two take your chairs over to the table, and Yurio, if you wouldn't mind putting clothes on, it's not polite to be naked at the dinner table..."

"Half-naked," Yurio grumbled as he stepped back into his trousers, carefully inching the waistband up the thigh which was now covered in bandages.

Viktor, meanwhile, picked up his chair and carried it with the back and the seat edge in both hands, setting it down along the long end of the table; Yurio came by carrying his only by the back a moment later and set it on the opposite side. 

Leo pulled the lid from the crockpot and waved a hand over it to disperse the heavy cloud of steam which wafted off its contents. Viktor was affronted with a wave of hot, damp air, rich with the scent of stewed meat. Leo walked back over to the counter and pulled a bread-box from a drawer under it, cutting four thick slices of bread off a loaf. He walked back to the table after putting everything away where he'd found it and fetching serving utensils, setting a slice of bread in front of each person. He served up a stringy, thick piece of meat accompanied by an assortment of vegetables and what looked to be glowing mushrooms. When he finished, he sat down and tossed the serving utensils into the crockpot.

Viktor looked helplessly to their hosts for guidance on how to eat this, and at first got nothing for it since Leo was unwrapping the cloth from his arms up to his elbows—which were covered in a spider's web of deep red scars, a fact that Viktor tried his best to put out of his mind—while Guang Hong was pulling off his scarf and rolling up his sweater sleeves. But then they simply began tearing the meat apart with their hands and shoving handfulls into their mouths, letting the juices drip from their chins onto the bread on the table. When he looked to Yurio, he saw that his friend was already doing the same as their hosts, so Viktor at last mentally shrugged and dug in.

"What's with the glowy mushrooms?" Yurio asked with a mouth full of meat. Viktor would cringe, except that he wasn't sure whether that counted as poor etiquette here or not.

"Nothing crazy," Leo replied, "they grow around here in the snow, and they're good with veal."

"Is that what this is? Not some kind of crazy huge magic caribou or something?"

Guang Hong giggled. 

Leo smirked and said, "Sorry to disappoint, but no. Just regular deer."

"That isn't disappointing," Viktor added. "This is delicious. We really appreciate how hospitable you two have been." Yurio nodded in agreement.

"It's no problem!" Guang Hong said. "Actually, Leo has somewhat a habit of picking up travellers. He doesn't usually pick up legendary heroes, though... and about that, I wasn't aware there were two of you. I thought the legends only mentioned one."

"We thought so too," Yurio replied. "But Katsudon told us about the original phrasing, and it seems that it could be interpreted either way, so."

"A... pork cutlet bowl...? Told you about the original phrasing of the legend...?" Guang Hong looked at Yurio like he’d recently gone bonkers.

Viktor sighed and cut in, "Katsudon is Yurio's nickname for the Prince."

"You nicknamed the Prince after a pork cutlet bowl."

"The pig nicknamed _himself_ after a pork cutlet bowl," Yurio sneered, the humor in his tone and his eyes.

"So you guys can talk to Prince Katsuki?" Leo exclaimed.

"Yes, they can. Um, hi," Yuuri said, a little sheepish but loud enough for everyone to hear him. Leo and Guang Hong glanced around, clearly looking for the source of Yuuri's voice but not finding it. "Yurio's right, actually some friends of mine when I was a kid used to call me Katsudon, because I love it so much, and also it sounds kinda like Katsuki. I can talk to Vitya and Yurio using life-force magic."

Guang Hong had the same reaction Phichit had to the phrase 'life-force magic', so Viktor tried to clarify. "According to the Royal Scientist at Kamyinsk, Yuuri and I are soulmates-" Suddenly he had an immensely clear mental image of Yuuri burying his face in his hands and blushing furiously, which was likely at least part of the reason he felt his own cheeks heat, the other obvious part being their emotional link. "-and so the life-force magic thing works and neither of us will die or anything so yeah," he finished his sentence quickly.

Everyone else laughed and Viktor forced a chuckle, brushing his knuckles across his cheek and feeling the intense warmth on his skin. "Well, at least neither of you will 'die or anything'," Guang Hong commented with a smile. "I presume you know how risky life-force magic is for normal people, then."

Viktor nodded. "I was informed by the aforementioned Royal Scientist, who also loaned me half his library. May I inquire as to why you know about it?"

"I'm a wand-maker, as I said. I need to know about how magic works to do that, especially since wands are somewhat connected to life-forces."

"How exactly are they connected? I only know the basics of magic from the quantum level."

"That's actually beyond me, if I'm honest," Guang Hong admitted. "But simply, because diamond is a magical substance, wands have diamond cores. Because direct contact with highly magically charged substances can give off an intense shock, I coat the diamond cores in an insulator like wood, except at the very tips." He pulled a wand from his left-hand skirt pocket and handed it to Viktor. The tip sparkled like a precious gemstone, since it was, and the wooden casing was intricately carved with swirls and stars. 

"Is there any use for these carvings, or are they just decorative?"

"Nope, besides enhancing the grip they're just decorative." Guang Hong held out his hand and Viktor handed the wand back to him, belatedly realizing that they had both gotten food all over the handle, though his host didn't seem to mind it. Guang Hong set it on the table beside his plate. "I make multiple models of wands for different purposes: for example, for sorcerers who mainly draw sigils on surfaces, I make a wand shaped like a pen that's easier to hold that way."

That made sense. If the only requirement for a wand is that it has a diamond core and a non-magical casing, there's no reason multiple models couldn't be made for different purposes. Viktor wondered what kinds of wands Yuuri had.

"So how's the linkage?" Yuuri asked, as if summoned by Viktor's thought of him. "How do you connect wand with wielder? What if a particular sorcerer wants more than one wand?"

"I actually make them custom, so I can create the core or cores to the sorcerer's specifications. This one is for a mushroom farmer and astronomer, she wanted something she could use for growth spells as well as lens-enhancing ones, so this is pretty standard." Guang Hong sounded like he was being interviewed.

Yuuri made a hum that implied a nod, either oblivous or apathetic to Guang Hong's tone. "Makes sense. What kinds of conductivities do your wands have in general?"

"Well, I obviously would have to have a purer core if I was going to make a wand for you, Your Highness. I can make most of my wands with synthetic or impure diamonds. If someone wants a better wand, I usually have them bring me the diamond for the core."

"Hold up a moment," Yurio interjected, "Can I get an explanation for what any of this means?"

"Basically," Leo replied, "purer diamonds conduct the magical energy better, so if you want a wand which can handle more complex spells, you want a better diamond for the core. I know it's complicated, Guang Hong had to explain it all to me too." Leo stood up, pushing his chair back with his knees as it scraped on the hardwood floor. "Unrelated question, anybody want seconds?"

A show of everyone's hands prompted Yuuri's question: "What are you all having?"

"Roast veal with mushrooms," Guang Hong replied proudly, glancing at Leo, who smiled bashfully. 

"Sounds delicious. I wish I could be there to try it."

"Wait, Katsudon, didn't you say earlier that you could make us imagine you walking beside us? What about we pull up a chair and you make us all imagine you're sitting with us?"

Viktor felt a momentary hesitation in his lover's mind, and he knew exactly why. Yuuri was worried he would be upset about sitting next to him but not being able to physically interact. Viktor smiled knowingly and said, "I'll go grab a chair."

Leo served seconds for everyone as Viktor did as he said he would, and when he had set the chair at the table, he turned around and Yuuri was there. He wore a simply styled but elegantly colored robe, the same shade of lilac he had worn when he kissed Viktor during his program to _On My Love_ , and he was standing in the middle of the room.

"Hi, Yuuri." Viktor forced his suddenly parched lips into a smile as he pulled out the chair he'd brought over. His lover walked over to the table with measured grace, as if he was balancing a stack of books atop his head. He pulled his skirt aside and sat down, glancing at Viktor with firelit eyes. "Hi, Vitya."

Viktor sat back down at the table, dazed. Goddess, he was beautiful. Beautiful and intense and... uncomfortable here. Why? It couldn't be easy to make four people imagine your presence, but Yuuri had chosen to do it, so that couldn't be the reason...

After a long moment, Yuuri dragged his gaze from Viktor like pulling a magnet from its opposite, and that was when Viktor noticed what had made Yuuri uncomfortable. Everyone was caught in the awkwardness which ensues when people don't know whether or not they're supposed to bow. So as such, Yuuri said, "Relax, please. I'm not Prince Katsuki here, just a humble man who wants to spend an evening with his lover and friends."

Viktor smiled. Guang Hong and Leo did as asked. Yurio, who seemed to be the only one completely unaffected, said through a mouthful of meat, "If it helps, call him Katsudon."

Guang Hong and Leo both laughed, more from the dissipated discomfort than from the actual humor of the statement, but it was nonetheless a little contagious. "So, Katsudon. How've the past five centuries been?" Leo asked, still chuckling.

Yuuri leaned forward, relaxing at last, and propped his chin on his palm. "Pretty shitty, to be honest. Glad I've got these legendary heroes to save me now. I had started to worry they weren't coming."

Viktor pressed his palm to his chest, exaggerating his shock. "Yuuri! How could you?!" 

* * *

The night was passed with multiple large helpings of meat and mushrooms, a decent amount of wine, and a lot of cheerful banter. Only when everyone was practically falling asleep at the table was the subject of sleeping arrangements considered.

"So, Yurio, where will we sleep?" Viktor asked, leaning across the table and idly fidgeting with the stem of his wine glass. His accent was thicker than normal and he was slurring his words.

"Why do you expect me to know, old man? ..Ask them..!" Yurio tried to gesture at both Guang Hong and Leo, which was difficult because they were at opposite ends of the table.

"Ah, sorry, Mr. and Mr. Ji, where shall we sleep?"

Guang Hong sputtered about for a moment, saying something about "we're not married yet!" before Leo, who obviously handled his alcohol better, jumped in and explained, "As Guang Hong told you earlier, I make a habit of picking up travellers, so we actually have a few spare rooms. You can each have one if you want, nobody else is here at the moment."

Viktor was about to say "that's not necessary" before Yurio jumped in with an ardent "yes please!" and they were promptly ushered into differently color-coded guest rooms. Viktor's was blue, Yurio's was yellow. There was also an orange one and a green one, further down the hall. Yurio entered his and shut the door behind him, and Viktor heard him collapse onto the mattress with a sigh before he moved on to his own room. Yuuri, quiet as a ghost, followed close behind.

The door shut, Yuuri fell against a wall and sighed, tipping his head back to lean against the wall, then nodding forward. Viktor considered how difficult it had to be to make four people imagine his presence for several hours. "You don't have to make me imagine you anymore, if you don't want," he said. "I'm probably going to go to sleep soon anyways."

"I know I don't have to, but... I want to be beside you." Yuuri moved away from the wall, stepping a moment closer to Viktor. He held his own hands, lacing his fingers together and concentrating on the floor. "It won't take that much more effort to keep myself here until you fall asleep..."

Viktor smiled and gestured for Yuuri to follow him; he did, hesitantly. Viktor pushed the mattress down and climbed into bed; Yuuri lay down next to him, facing him, reaching a hand up almost close enough to touch Viktor's cheek before he stopped himself. "Do you know what the lyrics of _Stay Close to Me_ mean?" he asked, looking away and forcing his hand down.

Viktor frowned. "They're in... Italian, no?"

"Yes, they are. I presume you don't speak Italian?"

Viktor shook his head. "Common, English, Russian, some Japanese, a phrase or two in a few other languages, but no Italian."

"The song is... well, it's about us. It's not very specific, I know, but... When my family and I created the Veil and its Key, I composed the song based on what I knew about the prophecy, and based on what I knew and inferred about you. I didn't know you then, except through snippets of prophetic vision, but I had felt the emotions through those visions, so I wrote about those..."

"Why did the song sound so lonely then?"

"It sounded lonely in the beginning because I was lonely in the beginning. Hell, I’m lonely now. I want to really, genuinely be next to you, and I know I'm not. No matter how convincing my illusion is to you, it's not convincing to me because I'm the one making it."

"A magician always sees through his own smokescreens," Viktor murmured, glancing briefly away.

"Exactly. But the reason I asked if you spoke Italian is because I wanted to know if you understood it. I didn't actually write it in Italian—I wrote it in Japanese, and had it translated to fit the operatic theme. Some nuance was obviously lost in translation... I wanted to ask you that before I..." Yuuri's voice was quiet; his gaze danced around the room, looking anywhere except into Viktor's eyes.

"Yuuri..." Viktor said, voice a low purr. Yuuri's gaze snapped back to his instantly as a reflex, eyes wide. "What did you want to tell me?"

"I..." Yuuri looked like he was trying to look away but failing. "Vitya..." He closed his eyes, which seemed to help. " _Hanarezu ni soba ni ite._ That was the original title of the song. That's what I find myself wanting to say to you."

"Stay close to me..."

"...and never leave." Yuuri opened his eyes, and Viktor bit his lip. Why was Yuuri so unfairly gorgeous? And why didn't Viktor have the ability to make his lover less lonely? Yuuri always did that for him. He closed his eyes to steady his thoughts, understanding why it had worked for Yuuri a moment ago.

"I won't," he said. "Katsuki Yuuri, I will stay as close to you as I can, and I will never leave you. From here on out, I have a new undertaking. I will save you, _and_ I will do whatever is necessary to make you less lonely. Your wish is my command, love." He put a hand to his chest cordially and opened one eye optimistically, hoping for an answer, or a smile, or a pleasant acknowledgement. He did not get what he hoped for. Yuuri was crying.

Viktor bristled immediately, holding up his free hand in surrender. _What did I do? What did I say? He's shaking, and crying, but he's smiling, what does that mean?_   "Yuuri, I'm sorry, whatever I said that-" Viktor was interrupted by a loud outburst of either laughing or sobbing, and he couldn't quite tell which one.

"Viktor, I adore you so much," Yuuri choked out through tears. There was absolutely no hostility and no hint of sarcasm in his voice, which confused Viktor even more. "I don't think this can be fixed. I need to wait until you finish all your trials, until you skate the Veil Key and seal the Shadow, then I can be with you, really and truly. All I need from you is for you to skate well, keep improving, and move as quickly as you can. I've already waited four hundred years, what's four more?"

Viktor smiled. "I wish I could wipe away your tears."

"I wish I were really physically crying, purely so you could do that." Yuuri wiped his tears on the sleeve of his robe and flipped over to face the ceiling. The mattress did not give under his weight. "You make it sound so certain that you're going to come save me, like there's no hint of chance involved, like it's just a matter of waiting four years instead of a matter of life and death for the people I care about the most..."

"Yuuri, you've already had to deal with matters of life and death for the people you care about the most, and it ended up going the wrong way. The least I can do is be certain that this time it's going to end up going the right way. You worrying about it isn't going to solve anything. Besides, isn't there a prophecy?"

"Prophecies have a bad habit of coming true in the worst possible ways. But... you're right, Vitya. Thank you. For being so sure of our collective destiny. I'm much less sure about it, which has been my bane for centuries."

"Well, I'm nothing if not impulsive and overconfident."

Yuuri smiled knowingly but said nothing.

Viktor shut his eyes and felt like falling asleep almost instantly, but he forced his heavy eyelids open and his fuzzy mind alert for another moment. "I'm... going to sleep now... but Yuuri?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. And I promise I'll stay close to you, in any way I can."

Yuuri smiled and kissed Viktor's forehead as he closed his eyes. "I love you too, Vitya. Sweet dreams."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is not abandoned, just so's you know. I don't intend to abandon it.
> 
> If you have suggestions for:  
> \- plot  
> \- characters  
> \- cameos  
> \- relationships  
> \- scenarios  
> \- dialogue  
> \- (basically anything)  
> Please post them in the comments below!!!
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading! See you next level <3


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